Pride and Procrastination
by Flying Circus
Summary: When she captured his attention, Lucius Malfoy was convinced he'd elicit her secrets from her in no time. Noone would be able to resist to him. How inconvenient that Rita Skeeter thought exactly the same of herself. Betw. Quibbler art. and Malfoy's arrest
1. A reason to celebrate

This is a one-shot about two people in the Harry Potter universe, who, in my opinion, should have been a couple in the first place. To my great astonishment, there are very few fanfics with that pairing, so I took the liberty to offer those two most appealing and charming characters a pleasant evening together.

After all, Rita Skeeter and Lucius Malfoy are not even allowed to meet each other in Rowling's books, let alone develop the fragile, intriguing and enchanting first steps of romantic love.

But beware: this story will not contain slash, but female-male relationship, including extramarital kisses, indecent words, exposed body parts, and practices the author herself only knows from literature. If you can't take it, don't review it. : )

Pride and Procrastination

Chapter 1: A reason to celebrate

Success. Finally, after months of painstaking preparation, he had made the last decisive step in his refined and long-figured out plan. And now it grew obvious that all his effort, his fraud and deceit, always facing the danger that Lord Voldemort would detect his true intentions, would be rewarded.

Hardly able to hide the self-satisfied smile that urged to flush through his face, Lucius Malfoy strode along the main street in Hogsmeade. It had been an exhausting, but very promising day. If his plan worked out, he would finally resume his well-deserved position as the Dark Lord's second. A soft chuckle escaped his lips when he stepped elegantly aside to make way for a witch with two little children, which the woman mistook as a polite smile and thanked him with a soft "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nodded absent-mindedly, and his mind turned back to the original cause for his amusement. Bellatrix. She had made a fatal mistake by telling the captured Ministry member of the Dark Lord's plan to attack the Ministry, of course assuming he would never have the chance to tell anyone and only to tease him, but, well, he had. And naturally he had warned the Minister for Magic and all of her refined schemes were obsolete. The escape had been miraculous and unexplainable for her or her fellows, except for Malfoy of course. After all, once he had known that Bellatrix had let slip the information, he was bound to use that fact for his own cause, wasn't he? His actions had done no harm to the Dark Lord's cause, but had been only supposed to make Lord Voldemort question Bellatrix' competence and effort. And, no surprise, it had worked. The Dark Lord had been very displeased with his Bella, and although he had not killed her, her chances of ever regaining his full trust and getting her former position were extremely limited.

With an elegant movement and an almost unmalfoyishly good temper, he hopped from the street back on the sidewalk, artistically side-stepping a ruddy cat that was hurrying across his path. He was about to pass the 'Three Broomsticks', when he decided that this was indeed an occasion to celebrate.

There weren't many patrons in the pub, which he welcomed anyway. It was enough that the old fraud of a barkeeper wasn't bothering to hide her unjustified, bold disapproval of him. Every single time he honoured the pub with his presence, shefound an inappropriate opportunity to display her lack of appreciation for him. Even now, she kept distractedly wiping the already highly polished bar instead of attending to him immediately.

Slightly aggravated, he cleared his throat, throwing her a disparaging look and patted the bar impatiently and very audibly with his flat hand. This time, his mood was too delighted to allow himself to get annoyed by that little barmaid.

Finally, after endless more minutes of doing unnecessary work instead of her duty, the shabby-looking woman looked up and slouched towards him. Blatant disrespect was oozing from her expression when she addressed him in a silky, bored voice:

"Evening, Mr Malfoy." she said, obviously not caring for her patron's offended glare. However, Malfoy decided not to complain about her lack of manners, feeling far above that kind of reprimand.

"Evening, waitress." He snarled, inwardly wondering why she would narrow her eyes on him.

"Fire whiskey on ice. If you're awake already, that is." He instructed impatiently.

Rosmerta raised her eyebrows. There was a mild ironic edge in her features when she answered: "Very well." and kept on wiping the shiny wood without hurry before she went for the bottles which were magically fastened on the wall behind her.

Lazily, showing an attitude that shamelessly dishonoured the very name of bar personnel, she fetched a glass and held it below the overlarge whiskey-bottle. When the glass was not even filled with half the usual amount of liquid, she set it down, grabbed her wand and aimed it at the water container dangling from the wall on the very right. Biting on her tongue while concentrating, which was a disgusting thing to watch, she waiting for the first huge drop of water flopping out, and while it was still dangling from the tap, just before falling down, she aimed her wand at it and muttered: "Fridgerate!"

Immediately, the drop stiffened, grew whiter and finally turned into an ice cubicle, which dropped right into the glass below, dismounting several drops of the precious liquid.

By the time the other four cubicles had followed, the personified clumsiness on two thick legs had managed to pour half the whiskey back out, but still dared to serve him the drink.

"There you are, Mr Malfoy." She stated, without any comment on her own mistake, let alone any offer to serve him a substitute.

It was a sign of Malfoy's well-bred manners and ever-present politeness that he didn't take the glass to pour it in her plain, insolent face, but pulled it towards him and only snarled at her: "Too kind of you, waitress. – But tell me, what must I do to get a glass that's a quarter full instead of almost empty? Order a beer?"

"Sorry?" said the waitress, unaware of her incompetence.

With incredible patience, he took up the glass and shook it slightly in front of her face. "I ordered fire-whiskey, if I remember correctly, not flavoured ice cubicles, waitress."

"You asked me to bring you a fire-whiskey on ice. – That's what you've got, isn't it?" Malfoy stared at her in disbelief. Instead of showing the slightest sign of gratefulness for his encouragement to do her work properly, she dared talk back to him.

"You forget who you are, and who you speak to, waitress." He spat.

"Nope, actually I haven't. – I happen to be the owner of the bar, if I remember correctly. You know, the one who can throw you out if you make trouble." Rosmerta's voice was now devoid of any friendliness and servitude, but cold and disparaging.

Praising himself for his patience and coolness, Malfoy managed to pull his lips into something that resembled a smile. "Well, as the owner, you should know how much whiskey to serve, shouldn't you? – I wish a new one. Immediately!"

"Fine." Rosmerta shrugged her shoulders, unabashed. She grabbed behind her and brought up a normal sized bottle, which she set down fairly hard in front of Malfoy. "Help yourself, then."

Malfoy glared after her when she moved to a table with new guests. The owner of a bar, he thought. He was the owner of a magnificent, huge manor, vast grounds, and not to forget, a well-renowned family name. – The owner of a pub, right? – Puh! Well, as far as he was concerned, she wasn't worth to serve him his tea, let alone his fire-whiskey, he thought, pouring himself a properly filled glass.

Sipping at his whiskey, relishing silently in the feeling of being superior, even to Lestrange in fact – he observed the servant absent-mindedly. The sloppy, homely-looking waitress was now lazily strolling through the room, obviously not used to hard work – or any real work for that matter – and reached a table with new guests. Oh, what a nice surprise, Malfoy thought scornfully. The decrepit Muggle-loving fool and the old hag. Of course. They were chatting happily with the girl, even inviting her to sit down with them. It seemed like they had taken a break of their troublesome jobs at Hogwarts to meet people who were stupid enough to tolerate them, for a change. Of course, getting drunk would be their only option to escape their pointless little lives.

Now, the waitress was actually sitting down at their table, neglecting her job as usual, and, of course, assuming an equal level with her guests. Well, in case of those guests, she probably was.

Malfoy shrugged and poured himself another drink, like this was his job rather than the servant's.

When the white-haired disgrace for wizardkind and the ancient woman who looked like his grandma, and was an insult to everyone' s eyes, finally left, Malfoy made a good job of displaying them his most scornful expression when they passed him. If they were impressed, he could not tell, but there was no reason to doubt it.

When he let his glance wander through the room, his attention was turned to a table with a group of four people, all dressed in black, rather elegant business cloaks. They were not talking to each other, but merely staring in front of them, without anything to drink on the table. Obviously, the servant had noticed that, too. She was approaching the table somewhat carefully, and sure enough, once she had opened her mouth, the whole bunch of them jumped into action. One of the men conjured up a little organiser in which he scribbled several lines, while turning away from Rosmerta, so that she couldn't see. Another suddenly held a camera in his hand and started to shoot photos of the startled waitress, who desperately tried to shield her eyes. So she was caught off guard when their colleague grabbed her hand, poured a dark, thick substance on it, before he pressed the trembling hand palm down on a blank piece of parchment, which was gone as quickly as he had retrieved it, exactly like the camera and the other men's little book.

"What..." Rosmerta gasped in shock, "what is that supp... argghh!"

The only woman of the group had flung herself up and stepped behind the waitress, now pushing her upper body roughly onto the table. One of her colleagues was so kind to assist by holding Rosmerta there by her hair, while the other two grabbed her wrists, so that her unreasonably waving arms couldn't hurt anyone.

While Malfoy was gratefully enjoying the splendid entertainment and the other guests were watching the scene somewhat scared, uncertain how to react, the black-dressed woman threw the waitress's cloak over Rosmerta's head and began to search her for any hidden weapons, making a good job of ignoring the terrified sounds under the thick cloak.

The cloak was pulled back from her face by the man who had taken her handprint before, but only to drag her face up, then dive it into a bowl with ink and shortly after that into another bowl with a muddy substance, which served to push the waitress's face in. The man made no hurry in rolling her face from the left to the right and back, but worked very careful and disciplined to do his job properly. When he was done, the bowls vanished with a soft 'swish' and Rosmerta could start to breath again, which was interrupted by some vicious cough attacks.

Finally, the woman behind Rosmerta stood, nodded to her colleagues to let the waitress go, and informed the three men in a professional, business-like manner: "Clean." Her voice was slightly hoarse, as if she wasn't used to speaking that much.

"Oh my God...what...why...?" Rosmerta stuttered, steadying herself, completely bewildered.

"Security measures." One of the men informed her cooly. "You were accosting us." Another added accusingly.

"I...was going to ask you what you'd like to drink..." Rosmerta said slowly, still unbelieving what just had happened.

The violent woman gave her a friendly, yet somewhat arrogant nod. "We'd like four beers, please."

"O...kay." Rosmerta whispered after a short silence and cleared her throat. "Uh...anything else?"

One of the men narrowed his eyes and rose, supporting himself with his hands on the table.

"And why would you want to know that?"

The waitress shook her head forcefully, causing several drops of ink flying through the room. "No, I don't...I ... uh, it's not my business, anyway, really. I was only tr..."

"What is not your business?" The man was standing next to her now, his inquisitive face only some inches away from hers.

"No...nothing."

"What is she playing at?" the woman asked the others suspiciously, throwing Rosmerta a look of pure loathing.

It was enough for Rosmerta. She wriggled herself out of the man's reach and said: "Four beers, then. Thanks." With slow, cautious steps she headed for the bar.

Malfoy grinned knowingly. It was not difficult to say who those people were. Ministry, obviously. But neither aurors nor administrative staff would act that way. But there was one department whose employees weren't used to contact with normal people so much, and where a certain degree of healthy paranoia was an obligatory requirement. The department of Mysteries. – He relished for a moment in the imagination what had happened to the waitress if she had asked for their names.

Another guest stood up and laid a comforting arm over Rosmerta's shoulder, while throwing the unaffected group behind her a fairly poisonous, accusing look. However, the obviously shocked waitress just smiled at her gratefully and approached the bar, wiping a few tears out of her eyes. Her vision was so blurred that she wasn't even aware she was passing Malfoy on the way.

"And a beer for me, too, while you're on it! – Waitress!" He snarled at her harshly, making her flinch in spite of herself. A blurred vision was no excuse for ignoring a Malfoy.

However, when he watched her hurrying behind the bar and rummaging with the glasses and bottles, clearly still in shock, Malfoy felt a sudden twinge of guilt, which felt strangely unfamiliar. But deep inside, he felt extremely generous today, and all of a sudden, the idea came to his mind that he could try to cheer her up. Malfoy chivalry. After all, it wasn't like him to make a woman cry. And it was indeed a challenge to think of a way how to make up for his former remark. It was obvious that the thing that woman needed most was dressing advice. Yes, that he could do.

When she passed him, Malfoy turned around and made a good job of staring up and down at her pointedly, to give her a discreet, useful hint to the state of her clothes, which was much more than she deserved, but Malfoy was in an extremely good mood today, which he loved to share with everyone. After all, it was not only her complete lack of taste, which was displayed in an almost offending way by her choice of colours, but also her blouse was crumpled, her skirt too long, and her apron had spots on it. All in all, the waitress had an incredibly slovenly, unkempt appearance, which was bound to provoke complaints.

He couldn't believe his own selflessness to bring her attention to that. In fact, he wasn't used to that kind of support for inferiors, but on the other side, as a member of one of the most renowned families, he had certain obligations to care for the less worthy.

"Anything wrong?" the girl snarled at him, devoid of any gratitude or appreciation.

"Oh, not much." He answered generously. "It's just that your appearance hurts my eyes, and everyone else's. You look like something that just crawled out of a dustbin." He was too much of a gentleman to elaborate. However, although he didn't mean it as an insult, he considered it appropriate to use such plain words to bring the message home to her. Sometimes, you had to be cruel to be kind.

If she possessed a rest of decency and the slightest ability to answer impartial criticism, she would be abashed and thank him modestly for his good advice.

So, even such a excellent judge of character like Lucius Malfoy was astonished and slightly taken aback by her unreasonable reaction.

Her mouth went open, as if she couldn't believe what he had just told her. His first conclusion that she was touched by his courage to inform her openly of her mistakes, was proved wrong when she uttered her reply, which displayed her disability to bear criticism.

"Oh, do I, Malfoy? – Well, I must admit, I do find that a bit rich of someone who's got a dustbin for a brain."

Very tight-lipped, she flung herself around and slouched away to disserve other customers, leaving a very offended Death Eater behind.

That to him. For ignoring his justified, usual habit of disdaining to speak with people like her, let alone to be of assistance to them. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was in an extremely good mood, for very good reason, he would have been livid by that bold and disrespectful remark.

But anyway, he'd had enough for today. He stood, unusually clumsily, and was about to head for the door, when he received a forceful push in the back and nearly tripled over. But still, he managed to use the bar for support and flung himself around, half furious, half alarmed. Two small hands were gripping his shirt, and finally, her realised that a woman had run right into him and was attempting to steady herself, muttering angry words at him.

"Err, sorry, " he said to the bushy ball of red hair in front of his face, "I didn't see that anyone was cross... – oh, look who it is!" His attitude had changed considerably when the woman had straightened up and looked at him.

"Yes, look who it is, Malfoy!" Rita Skeeter snapped and gave him another, this time deliberate push against his chest. "Don't stand there, in my way, I'm here for very important business. – Over here, Bobo!" The last instruction was aimed at her panting colleague who was balancing an overlarge camera over his arm and shoulder and dragging some heavy-looking further equipment behind him. Fastened around his neck, there was a huge violet bag dangling in front of his chest, sporting in too bright to be stylish colours the writing "Rita Skeeter, special correspondent !" beneath a very, very flattering grinning photo of the woman. But right now, she wasn't in the mood for joking. Rita was very much in a hurry, even too much to take the time for the usual teases, an occasion so rare that Malfoy couldn't but wonder why. She pointed at some people at the end of the bar, sitting around a table near the wall. "Hurry, we're late already. Hope you have everything with you, for a change!" A last scornful, disapproving look at Malfoy, and she was gone, heading for the group.

Malfoy nodded after her, an ironic look on his face, and spoke, more to himself than to Bobo: "What a pleasant person, isn't she?"

It was a sign of how much Bobo was crossed and tired of being ordered around that he started to complain to Malfoy of all people, taking his rhetorical question as an invitation.

"You know what," he muttered absent-mindedly, earning a rather disinterested, but mock polite glance of Malfoy, "I won't take this much longer. Have many offers, I can tell you, I don't need to work for the 'Daily Prophet', you know? Next year this time I'll laugh in her face, when I have my own photo agency or work for some decent paper. – All the time chasing after new secrets of Harry Potter, really pis..."

"Harry Potter?" Malfoy interrupted him sharply. His glance wandered from the frustrated photographer to the group of three men and, including Skeeter, two women, who were chatting very lively. "That's what this interview is about?"

Bobo shrugged, gave a low sigh and started to stroll to the table. "That's what most of her – uhum – research is about. Spends all the _Prophet's _expenses for pointless interviews and doesn't even hesitate to invite the "Invisibles" around, who'll tell her nothing, but will only make her pay through her nose. And they hate photographers. That woman is a complete lunatic. Who unfortunately considers herself my boss. - And me something like her house-elf, obviously."

The photographer's bitter words conjured a mild grin on Malfoy's face. But apart from the dunghead's depression, he thought, this could indeed be interesting news. Of course he knew about Skeeter's...reliability, and her abysmally poor writing and research skills, but that group didn't look completely incompetent. He reckoned he should use some of his own research abilities.

"Thanks, my young friend," he muttered and gave a short nod over to the bar. "Listen, Bobo, why don't you ask that disaffected barkeeper to hand you a nice tea-towel to wear?" He clapped the man softly on the back and sat back at the bar. "On me." He added, ignoring Bobo's look of offence and indignation.

"Very funny." Bobo hissed behind his back, so that Malfoy could feel his breath against his neck, which he ignored of course, as an argument like this was far beneath his dignity. "Laughing my head off!" Bobo exclaimed sarcastically. "And it's not Bobo! – It's Mr Robbins for you, Malfoy. And if we were on first name terms," Bobo continued, "it would be 'Robert'. Or 'Bob' by all means. But not 'Bobo'! Make a note if you must! – Most people wouldn't even call their house-elf 'Bobo'. I offered her a thousand times to call me 'Bob', but she just doesn't seem to get it!" Bobo sighed with true frustration. "I'm so sick of it." He muttered.

Malfoy would have been amused if he had listened properly, but there was a new thought crossing his mind, that was too promising to be ignored. Skeeter talking with Invisibles, and probably about Potter, too... he was bound to inform the Dark Lord of this meeting. This evening had started very entertaining, and now it turned out that he would spend the rest of it with one of those Ministry members or Skeeter herself in the Dark Lord's dungeons. Not bad either. As long as it wasn't Bobo of course. But that seemed very unlikely.

He threw some galleons on the bar and strolled out of the room in a non-committal manner.

Around ten minutes later, he had Dissapparated to the Dark Lord's lair and had just been allowed to enter.

"Mylord." He muttered and sank to one knee, his head lowered respectfully.

"Lucius, old friend," Lord Voldemort answered in a low, stinging voice. "Stand and let me know the reason why you dare disturb me in my preparations. – It will be something seriously important, I presume, surely, you wouldn't want to experience my displeasure?"

In an elegant movement, Malfoy got to his feet and looked the other man in his eyes, his head still slightly inclined.

"Yes, master. I would have never dared disturb you for anything else."

"Then speak."

Malfoy nodded nervously and cleared his throat. He had been positive that the news were definitely important enough, but now, being stared at by those red merciless eyes, the seed of doubt was fertilising his growing fear..

"Yes, Mylord. On my way home through Hogsmeade, I met Rita Skeeter by mistake, and her unusual secretive attitude made me suspect she was up to something. I followed her to the "Three Broomsticks", where she met four informants, who looked like Ministry employees. By using her photographer's naivety, I made him reveal to me what she was up to at the moment. And he said that it might have something to do with Harry Potter. And just now she is obviously interviewing some members of the department of Mysteries."

Silence. He heard his master breath deeply a few times, but waited in patience. Then...

"Indeed, Lucius, that could be of interest to me. And the fact that her photographer told you rather than herself, implies that this could be the truth. – Anyway, it's worth to do some research."

Malfoy looked up to him, a small smile curling around his lips. "Do you wish me to get hold of her after her meeting and bring her to you, Mylord?"

"Oh no, you won't, Lucius." Lord Voldemort refused in a voice that sounded like a protest. Soon, his voice turned back to normal, and he elaborated.

"I do not wish Rita Skeeter to come to my house. Not as guest, not as a prisoner, not as a journalist. We must find another way, or maybe you'd fancy to take her to Malfoy Manor, Lucius?"

It sounded more like a threat than a suggestion. Skeeter in his dungeons? In spite of himself, Malfoy shook his head. That wouldn't do. The Potter brat hadn't been the only one who had fallen victim to old Rita's wild imagination and libel campaign. It had sufficed to give him the right impression of her. And no matter what he would inflict on her, there was no doubt that he would be the one to suffer more. Besides, people would ask. No-one would miss her, obviously, but people would wonder what had happened. Her editor for a start.

"Mylord," he began, realising that his silent deliberations had taken much too long, "Please accept my apologies. I have been stupid. May I ask you to explain your plan with her?" He seriously hoped that would conclude the affair with Malfoy Manor.

Lord Voldemort smirked at him, knowingly. His voice turned soft and silky when he spoke: "My, Lucius, of course I accept your apologies. Haven't I always? – Well, I would think that Skeeter is not the person that requires those measures you implied. I'm quite sure she would be willing to reveal to you anything you ask her if you just ... appeal to her self-admiration a little. – Make her compliments, assure her in her unjustified self-assessment that she has any journalistic skills, praise her beauty, anything – sleep with her if you must, but make her tell you whom she has met there."

"M...Mylord!" It was a sign of Malfoy's long-trained composure that he was only muttering his question, which was supposed to be an upset outcry of protest, disbelief and indignation.

"Any problem with carrying out my instruction, Lucius? Again?" Lord Voldemort's voice left no room for arguing, but still, his order had been so unusual that Malfoy gave it another try.

"No, Mylord, of course not. – I admit I was merely... surprised that you wished me to ... to go that far?"

"Lucius, Lucius, your duty to me does indeed include those things that might contradict to your normal social behaviour, or the fact that you're married. – If you do not see that, I'm afraid that you might have the wrong priorities. – Maybe I should correct them one of these days."

Malfoy sank to his knee again. "I feel ashamed of myself, master, please forgive me. I beg you to have no doubts in my loyalty. I will do as you wish... Master."

"I thought as much. – Right, Lucius, then Apparate to the "Three Broomsticks" at once and get in touch with her. Now!"

With a last obedient nod, Malfoy stood and muttered "Yes, Mylord", before he did as he was told.

In front of the pub, he gave a low sigh, before he entered. Now, why did he have to inform the Dark Lord right away? If he ever did such a thing as slapping himself inwardly, he would do it now.

'Right, Lucius', he thought, anxious not to make his reprimand too off-putting, 'now you've brought yourself in real trouble. – Brilliant idea.'

But could he have expected that, instead of abducting Skeeter to the Dark Lord' s dungeons, he was supposed to have... to have... to get intimate with her – he couldn't even think the word with Skeeter's image in mind – could he have seriously expected anything like that? No, he decided, and apologised for scolding himself earlier.

Bracing himself for an exhausting night of fake appeal and bodily degradation in the company of Rita Skeeter, he took a last long breath and entered the "Three Broomsticks".

The difference between his expression now and that he had shown two hours earlier couldn't have been bigger. With one short, disaffected glance he spotted the Skeeter-woman. She was still chatting with the people from the Ministry. Fine.

He re-assumed his seat at the bar and waited patiently. After another ten minutes, the Invisibles stood first. The fact that they did it completely simultaneously made the scene even more impressive. And indeed, the whole pub went silent, and the patrons on the tables they passed were looking the other way or in front of themselves on the table. Still, one of the Invisibles was scribbling in his little book while observing the people knowingly.

When they passed the bar, Malfoy saw Rosmerta duck under the wine shelf as if looking for something, which she never seemed to find. Malfoy however showed the group his friendliest grin.

"Evening, Jimmy!" he greeted the one who had faceprinted Rosmerta before.

"Evening, Lucius." Jimmy muttered. "Narcissa and Draco fine?"

"Sure. – And your self-help group, everything under control, mate?"

"Oh, yes, yes." Jimmy assured him, and suddenly caught a glimpse of Rosmerta under the shelf. In the spur of a moment, he flung his upper body over the bar and shouted with the manner of someone who was afraid of being made ridicule of: "WHAT ARE YOU GRINNING AT? – And why are you hiding there? – Maybe I should have a look if you hide someone else in your pub, probably someone of You-Know-Who's followers. You cannot hide anything from us, mind. I recognise a Death Eater when I see one. - Confess, woman!"

"No, no, no" Rosmerta was wailing from under the shelf, rather unnerved. "Just go away. Go away. Just leave!"

"We haven't paid yet." Jimmy added, his tone suddenly civil again. "You didn't bring us the bill."

"It was on the house." Rosmerta wept. "You don't need to pay. Just leave."

"I understand." Jimmy said slowly. "So that you can accuse us of corruption later, right?"

Now the whole group of them was bending their upper bodies over the bar, suspiciously observing the waitress, who had grabbed two large whiskey bottles for defence.

"NO. Go away."

"Strange behaviour," the woman commented, scowling at Rosmerta. The three men nodded in unison.

"Just leave me alone." Rosmerta repeated.

"You will tell me the price, woman!"

"One, one galleon and 10 sickles. Please."

Jimmy nodded. "Not the cheapest place, is it? The last time I ordered a beer in a pub, it only cost me a few knuckles. Anyway. Here you are. Keep the rest." Generously, he counted two galleons on the top of the shelf Rosmerta was hiding under. "But nice pub really." He told the shelf. "I shall recommend it to my friends and colleagues."

"Pl...please don't. – The pub is as good as sold. It won't be here anymore."

"Oh, shame." Jimmy said. "Funny, I hear that quite often by pub owners. Hard business, obviously."

"Hathorne!" his colleague reminded him impatiently to leave with them.

"Oh yes." He said and gave a friendly nod to Malfoy "Lucius."

"Jimmy."

And suddenly the whole group was gone.

Now Skeeter, too, was hurrying towards the exit, too. It was time.

"Excuse me, Miss Skeeter." Immediately, Rita flinched and narrowed her eyes to a small line, her features drenched with suspicion.

She merely inclined her head, ready for a sarcastic remark. But instead...

"Uhm, may I treat you to a drink, Miss Skeeter, to settle our former differences, what do you say?"

If Rita was stunned by that unexpected friendliness, she didn't show it too much. Her broad grin alone would have sufficed as an answer, but she decided to underline it with words: "I tell you what, Malfoy, you can slime up someone else, but not me. I'd rather allow him", she pointed at Bobo, who desperately tried to look the other way and to appear unaffected, "to treat me to a drink than you of all people. – Have a nice day!"

Before she had put too much distance between them, Malfoy went for the real attack, to hit Rita at her weakest point. "You too," he said lightly, turning back to his drink, "I suppose it's better that way anyway, ... honestly, how drunk must I be to treat you like a lady. – Must be careful not to blurt out any business secrets with that lack of control. – Bye, Skeeter, old fraud."

It had worked. Rita's steps stopped abruptly, even before he had said his goodbye. The next thing he saw of her was much more promising. After dismissing her bad-tempered photographer, she gave him a beaming smile and took a seat on the bar stool next to Malfoy.

"Now, there's no reason to get rude, is it? You know what, Malfoy, you're really a show-off, are you not? I consider it more likely that you'd like to ...complain about the Quibbler article, well, in that case, you should send a letter to the editor."

Malfoy snorted mirthlessly. "Well, I should think it's beneath my dignity to react to that rubbish. You know, if only half of that nonsense you wrote was true, do you think that editor would still be walking around ... alive?"

He gave a short laugh and added: "Honestly Skeeter, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at the lying Potter brat and his little cronies who started the whole affair. But not at you. In fact, if you needed the money so badly, I'm glad if I could be of assistance." A little comic relief couldn't harm, he reckoned.

"Sure." she said slowly. It was obvious that Rita's expression was displaying a good amount of curiosity now, which mingled with doubt and suspicion. Her coldness, however, had somewhat vanished. "What exactly do you want, Malfoy?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing. Nothing, Miss Skeeter. I shouldn't have started this. My, I should be a little more careful with alcohol. Loosens my tongue, that stuff does. Anyway, I merely wondered when I saw you with those strange people if you're just falling for another ridiculous story, again without even listening to the other side. What were you talking about anyway?"

She shook her head importantly. "That was confidential of course. – But, what did you mean... you...you are not trying to suggest that you would have given me an interview, too, if I had asked. I mean, that's not what you're trying to say, is it?"

A glint of excitement flushed in her boring eyes.

Malfoy knew it had been his trump card. And he knew it had worked.

He shrugged again and gave her a playful smile. "Well, not for the _Quibbler_, of course. – But quite frankly, Miss Skeeter, after the _Daily Prophet's _reasonable stance during the last few months, I seem to have expected at least to be given the chance to explain my point of view. It was only the _Quibbler, _sure, but I don't think you had realised the consequences of those rumours, as far-fetched and silly they might have been. – But who would think that a little attention-seeking, probably weak-minded school-boy was able to stir up the whole wizarding community. As one of his victims, you feel like an innocent suspect of medieval inquisition." He sighed very convincingly. "The whole world has gone crazy. Have you any idea what my wife feels like, facing accusations her own husband had affiliations with You-Know-Who and could have...done the thing Potter described? I beg you, Miss Skeeter...you don't tell me you bought this for one minute?"

Her scowl had completely left her features. This sounded really promising. Not in the least inclined to answer his last question, she strolled towards and swung herself on the barstool next to him.

"You know, actually, I think you might have a point there, Mr Malfoy. – Why don't you tell me your story, from your own point of view? What was your first reaction when you read the article? Why didn't you ..."

"Now, now, now," he cut her short, grinning, "my question first."

"I can't tell you," she turned him down, still smiling, "you know, that's incredibly secret, I'm afraid."

Inwardly, she was astonished how attractive that man could be, when he chose neither to complain about her articles or that what he had called inquisitiveness and nor to throw her disparaging and bad-tempered looks.

"Miss Skeeter, you know, the actual reason why I called you back was – err – not really your article, and not your former interview, either. – Are you aware that you look like a forest fairy in the beams of the moonlight? I just felt entranced when I saw you earlier. But that smile even makes you more beautiful, if that's possible."

She nodded politely, clearly flattered, when he offered her his most appealing smile, together with a fresh glass of fire-whiskey. She took the glass and was about to have a small sip, when she thought otherwise and tipped his glass slightly with hers.

"Call me Rita!"

Malfoy took up his glass and shook it slightly, like giving her a toast. He had too much experience in disguising his true feelings and perform a good act than to fail when confronted with a self-righteous journalist without any Legilimency skills.

"Lucius." he said in return. "It's a real pleasure for me, and I mean it... Rita."

She cleared her throat, not really nervous, yet not very comfortable with the situation either. "You know – Lucius – it's a bit strange to be so civil with each other. It's like, ... hmmm, it seems to me very..."

"Unique." Malfoy prompted. "But not too unpleasant, I trust."

"And the fact that you're married..."

"...shouldn't disturb us right now. Don't worry, Rita. We have a liberal relationship, Narcissa and me. And she never heard me complain when she came home late, or only the next morning."

He smiled when he watched Rita frown doubtfully.

"Hey, I'm not the vicious, violent monster that you – err, some incredibly inquisitive, but immensely talented journalist loved to scare their readers with."

He had an astonishing talent to show such a playful, charming, slightly indignant smile, that she couldn't but join in laughing.

She shrugged, observing him closely. "You don't look like it at least." Had she been too quick in falling for Potter's story? It had all seemed so clear and logical. Then. But this man, who was flirting with her and was just now playing thoughtfully with the peanuts in the little bowl, ... to imagine him in a circle of Death Eaters witnessing the scenes Harry had reported. It seemed impossible. And maybe, if it hadn't been for Rita Skeeter's unmistakable ability to sense fraud as well as a good and promising story, she would have almost fallen for his facade.

On the other hand, Malfoy was indeed rather handsome, and she would lie to herself if she denied his charisma and sex-appeal. And their affect on her. Moreover, she was sure she would be able to persuade him to tell her maybe more of his hidden life than he intended now. Oh this was going to be fun, she thought. But here in the pub, he wouldn't tell her anything.

She turned to him and inclined her head slightly. A slender, gentle hand was stroking a lone strand of blond hair out of his face. "No, you don't look like it at all."

The expression in his eyes had changed. The original encouraging, charming look had changed into surprise when she touched him, which had been only visible for the fraction of a second, to be replaced by something earnest and mildly questioning. Challenging, that was the word.

He got hold of her hand, pulled it towards him and placed a soft kiss on it. "You are amazing, Rita. Honestly, you're really fascinating me. However, I'm afraid we shouldn't do that here in public, should we?"

He leaned forwards, as if to kiss her, but stopped an inch next to her cheek and muttered in her ear: "Should we?"

A warm, prickling sensation rushed down her spine when she felt the little hairs on her neck moved by his hardly perceivable breath.

She grabbed his chin and placed a well-aimed kiss on his cheek, causing him to retreat with a soft chuckle, smiling at her playfully, and a little bit surprised.

"No, we shouldn't." she said, nodding to the exit. "There are better places."

Malfoy shrugged in a non-committal manner. "Well, not my place. Narcissa may be tolerant, but that...uh...no."

Rita raised her head and threw him her most capturing, appealing smile. "No, of course not. Well, seems there's only one option, doesn't it?"

She stood and threw a galleon on the table and nodded to Rosmerta, who had leaned against the wall and smirked at them ironically. "On me." She explained, clearly not used to objections.

"Oh, thanks." He said and rose, too. "And what are your plans with me tonight, Miss Skeeter, if I may ask?" He grinned, clearly enjoying himself.

She took him by the arms and shrugged casually. "Well, there's only one option, Mr Malfoy, isn't it? –

Come with me."


	2. Two is company

Two is company

Sunset. The fascinating mixture of golden, orange and bright violet colours, flirting with each other on the magnificent evening sky over London, was extraordinarily intriguing tonight. The few people on the streets who did bother to look up were caught momentarily by the sight, and felt the slightest twinge of pity for all the others who took nature's beauty for granted, without the merest appreciation.

A youngish couple was observing the subtle change of colour, the woman pointing out the lovely sight and carefully explaining to her partner why she found it so beautiful, and why sunsets had a most appealing affect on most people, and why it was nevertheless difficult to write an article about it, and why she considered most of her readers pitiful dungheads in general.

The man was nodding, occasionally massaging his neck. Now and then, he would open his mouth, but close it without having uttered a word, mistaking each short pause for breath of her for the end of her speech.

Finally, he succeeded in interrupting her. "Ah, Rita, indeed, that was really fascinating. However, I admit I'm getting slightly tired of walking through the town. So, maybe we should go somewhere... more comfortable?"

Inwardly, he was still not so sure about how far this would go, and the idea of making himself comfortable with Rita Skeeter had its pros and cons, but the opportunity was too good to miss. If he was successful in making her spill out her knowledge of the Ministry's Department for Mysteries or news of Potter, on top of smarting out Bellatrix, Lord Voldemort would be extremely pleased, and would reward him significantly.

In the spur of a moment, she had flung her left arm up and squeezed it in between his waist and elbow, before he could even offer his arm to her, and rested her hand elegantly on his right forearm, beaming up at him with what she was certainly considering a seductive expression.

"Oh, but of course, Lucius," she whispered confidentially, "why don't we go to my flat? What an extraordinary co-incidence that it's just a few steps from here."

He nodded politely and let her lead the way. He was slightly amused by that delighted smile of her, which he, being used to the occasional wishful look of strange women, took for anticipation and gratefulness she was bound to feel for having not only a fairly attractive and well-built bloke, but also a member of the finest wizarding families in Britain visiting her at home, promising much more.

A Malfoy in her bed, he thought in silent self-admiration, that was more than such a miserable journalist deserved. He would do her an incredible honour by that, although bed activities of any kind were only his last resort, but if necessary, he would go to some lengths in order to make her confide her secrets to him.

Rita at his side steered him determinedly into a narrow side street, heading for her flat. She was well aware of Malfoy's self-satisfied smile, and had almost – almost - a guilty conscience for using him. She knew that he had had five fire-whiskeys already, and would have a lot more, once in her flat, maybe mixed with some mild truth potion she needed for her job. Nothing like Veritaserum, of course, that would be terribly illegal, even for a journalist, nevertheless, her own fine brew was not quite ineffective either. Although it didn't force the drinker to reveal anything against their will - this would safe her from legal proceedings, if one of her interview partners would ever find out - it worked, as for spilling out secrets, very similar to alcohol. It made people less attentive, and more trusting. Even more so if the recipient had done her the favour of preparing his blood with an appropriate level of whiskey.

After all, if only half the rumours of his affiliations to You-Know-Who were true, it would suffice to assure the 'Daily Prophet' many more readers, and would give her own career a new kick-start. Only with serious stomach ache did she remember her last article, even though it had been perfectly up to her usual standards, no doubt. But – to work for the 'Quibbler'... - it was just too low and humiliating, and far beneath a highly qualified journalist like her, an embarrassment which had earned her more than one smirk and amused comment of her colleagues - untalented, insolent folk, devoid of any respect and consideration.

Fear of You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters - Malfoy for a start – was undeniably there, under the surface, Rita was neither stupid nor naive, but yet, she was a more than dedicated a reporter, had never wanted to be anything else, and the outlook of writing a story, revealing some of Malfoy's secrets and possibly his affiliations with You-Know-Who, mixed with the image of herself amidst her own colleagues, praising her and begging to tell them how she had succeeded, prevailed every other feeling.

And maybe she would even have an entertaining evening with that attractive bloke, who apparently, judging by the look on his face, couldn't believe he was being allowed to touch her gracious body, which he would undoubtedly appreciate.

--------------

"Look, Lucius, there we are." She nodded casually to the house in front of them and started to rummage in her bag for the keys.

Malfoy closed his hands behind his back and let his glance wander up the building.

Rita's house was quite big and had several storeys, probably over ten. So she couldn't be too poor, he realised with appreciation, he only wondered why the house had so many windows and balconies.

"Very impressive", he muttered, "I trust you have enough personell to keep everything in order. Must be very money-consuming." The last remark, of course, had been a compliment, from one wealthy person to another."

He was caught by surprise when Rita laughed shrilly. "Well, I have no house-elf, if that's what you were implying. – But my flat is not big, quite cosy actually. There are some larger flats, of course, many families live here. Or could..." she shrugged her shoulders, and finally retrieved her key-bundle.

"You _share _a house?" Malfoy said, astounded, "you mean you live with other people?"

She laughed again, taking his true astonishment for teasing. "What's up, Lucius?" she teased him, mistaking his ignorance for irony, "scared of the neighbours?" Her expression grew thoughtful when she continued. "Don't worry, astonishingly, I don't have any." She gave a soft shrug and turned right, leading him on a narrow corridor, which led to her flat. "Although I've never understood why, the rents are not too expensive around here. No vermin, either. Not anymore. - So..., hmm, dunno..."

Reluctantly, he followed her inside. Possibly it had been her last statement about the vermin, more than the fact the she had people living in her house, that had caused a nasty twinge of foreboding stinging in his stomach. Closely observing the clean, but dreadfully humble abode, Malfoy walked after Rita up two flight of stairs, and then right into a narrow corridor. Finally, Rita gave a short look around and came to a halt.

"It's here." she whispered in front of her door, and picked a small key in her bundle, while Malfoy gave the humbly furnished corridor a most disparaging look behind her back.

She unlocked the door and led the way into the small apartment. Hesitating, he followed. Once inside, he was hardly able to swallow the appropriate remark, and closed the door behind him in silence.

The flat was rather small, and the corridor seemed to suffocate him. He followed her into the kitchen, which was clean and tidy, but incredibly small. Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows. It was disgusting. For a small moment, he seriously considered to turn on his heels and leave this abode, which was a blatant insult to eyes and taste of every true Malfoy.

Rita threw her cloak over the chair and waited for his. "Err, do you like it?" she inquired, slightly uncertain of his attitude.

Malfoy made a quick decision. He granted her a friendly, appreciating smile and nodded. "Oh, but of course, why should anyone not ... like it?"

She shrugged her shoulders and added confidentially. "It's not much, but it' s home."

He tried to nod more convincingly and pointed out: "I think it's...it's, Ah ..., lovely."

Elegantly, he handed her his cloak and stood uncertainly in the frame of the kitchen door. The room seemed to be built for less than one person, and, only with Rita rummaging inside, it was already over-crowded, at least to his eyes.

Rita smiled at him encouragingly, a twinge of nervousness flushing through her face. "Err, want a tea?" she asked him. "I've got Earl Grey, Peppermint, oh, look, there's Strawberry-Vanilla..."

He shook his head, smiling. There was also a mild smile on her face when she closed the cupboard door and walked towards him with slender moves, until she came to a halt half a metre in front of him.

She inclined her head and spoke softly and ambiguously. "Hungry?"

"It depends." He whispered. "But not for anything you could make in the kitchen, really."

Rita looked up at him, leaned a little closer and stroked with her index down his chest, which was amazingly enjoyable to the touch, even if he was – still – dressed. She placed her hand on his white silk shirt and moved it gently down over his waist, until it reached one of the fine, silver buttons. It slipped through the space between two buttons and was suddenly under his shirt, eager to explore his soft, muscular chest.

Malfoy cleared his throat. She looked in his eyes with a flirting expression, waiting for an appreciative remark of him. Surely, she had got him on the right way.

"Rita," he began in a casual, quiet voice, "are you sure we should stay here in the door frame? I assume you have a living-room, maybe we should use it?"

That was not the request she had expected. Still, she didn't reveal her astonishment and mild indignation. Instead, she was trying to wriggle her hand out from under his shirt, which seemed much more difficult than to let it slip under it, given the two reluctant buttons, which seemed to be blocking her way out.

"May I help?" he said in mock politeness and opened one of the buttons.

"Thanks.", she said in true embarrassment and pulled her hand out.

"Right, let me show you my living-room, then," she continued, already unabashed and patted his chest lovingly. "Just that way. You go first, okay?"

He passed a broom cupboard and strode a few steps through a disorderly cubby-hole, with dirt and waste scattered on the floor, silently wondering why those rooms should be situated that centrally in the flat.

An ugly twinge of foreboding clutched his stomach when he realised that there was no further door which led in the living room. No door. Nowhere. If it had been hidden, she would have told him, wouldn't she. And sure enough... "Lucius, where are you going? Just sit down. – Or, wait a second, I'll just clean that away. Uh, sorry."

Malfoy flung himself around and caught the slightest glimpse of humorous embarrassment in the flat tenant's face. His mouth fell open, without him noticing, watching Skeeter collecting clothes, paper handkerchiefs and some strange looking wrappings of something, possibly food. Despite his unwillingness and his every cell protesting against the realisation, it couldn't be helped. At least in Skeeter's universe, this room was actually meant for living in – and, more threatening to him, hosting guests.

He pressed his back against the wall, uncertain what to do, and hardly able to wipe the look of disgust off his face.

"Normally, it doesn't look that way, you know?" Skeeter muttered, smiling at him, while balancing a heap of dirty and less dirty worn garments through the room. Finally, she stopped in front of the large cabinet. "Would you mind?" she asked him, nodding at one of the cabinet's doors.

"What?" he said hoarsly, feeling slightly sick.

"Could you just open the door, please? I'll have to do the washing later. I'll simply put it here, there's still some space down there on the left."

Reluctantly and nearly choking, he stepped to her side, carefully avoiding the things on the floor he had considered mere waste just a precious minute before. In front of the cabinet, he knew for sure that he didn't want to know its contents. But it couldn't be helped.

Elegantly, he took a step sideways and was just about to touch the door-grip with his fingertips, when he changed his mind and drew his wand to do it. When the door was opening, he looked inconspicuously the other way, while Rita threw her bundle inside.

Beaming, she clapped her hands together and pressed the door shut. "Okay, now it's just some dishes I forgot to clean up yesterday."

And the month before, Malfoy assumed, silently.

"Really sorry about that, but I didn't expect any guests tonight, you know?" she explained over her shoulder.

Malfoy nodded, as understanding as he was able to. "Obviously."

Rita gave an apologetic shrug, drew her wand and made some small and large plates, several pieces of silver cutlery with a rose pattern, a large cardboard container, two jugs, six mugs and ten glasses and an assortment of dirty jars and empty bottles fly up in the air, meekly following her in the kitchen.

Malfoy just stood there, his hands planted in his hips, staring after her in disbelief. His Malfoy instinct warned him of inhaling the very air in this horrible place. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and pressed his eyes shut.

_Any problems with carrying out my instructions, Lucius? Again? _

Again, Malfoy shook his head. He had to go through with this. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, and his glance fell on the large cabinet in front of him.

Carefully, he wrapped his clean white handkerchief around his index, took a step nearer to the cabinet and strode with his dressed finger elegantly, yet slightly snobbishly, along the top, half out of habit, half to confirm his assumptions and foreboding. And sure enough, it was there. The thing he found most disgusting of all possibly disgusting things in a household. Dust. The sign of extreme disorderliness. The obvious reminder of the owner's sins of neglect. The unmistakable call for any voluntary or involuntary guest to leave in protest. And, as he had expected, there was it. A whole load of it. In two huge swirling clouds, the thick, powdery substance swept down from the top, seemed to hover in front of his nose for a moment, and then forced its way through his mouth and nose, down his airpipe and lungs.

Seriously annoyed, he stepped back, coughing discreetly while doubling over and patting his chest to force the substance back out. No, this was not mere disorderliness. Disorderliness was not to fold one's shirt correctly and put them neatly on top of each other, sorting them by colour, tissue, collar size and by the occasions to wear them, obviously. Disorderliness was to put a soup plate on the heap for the flat plates in the kitchen cupboard, or, in an extreme version, sorting it to the wrong dish set. But this... he had never seen anything like this. For the first time in his life, he cursed himself for contacting the Dark Lord, which would oblige him to stay. However, it was a hard task to pull himself together.

"I'll be right ba-hack." Rita assured him in a light-hearted sing-song from out of the kitchen, adding insult to injury.

"Feel free and make yourself comfortable."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, displaying open disgust and loathing. His lips were a thin line, and every cell in his body refused to sit anywhere here. If anything, the remark had sounded remotely funny. Like an extremely bad joke.

How much he hated that voice. Already.

He shook his head slightly. He was positive that if his house-elf would ever leave such a mess, he would... he w...

Suddenly, Malfoy clenched his teeth. Potter! Even here he was reminded of the fact that he hadn't any house-elf anymore to inflict punishments on. He was in the same state as Skeeter, his thoughts trailed off. But no, he would never be. However, thinking of the little interfering brat helped to go through with this. News about Potter would definitely reward him for this ordeal.

With a nauseated feeling, he went over to the piece of furniture that was most resembling a couch, carefully climbing over a cushion that stuck on the floor.

He assured himself that the cause for this disgusting scene was still in the kitchen, before he drew his own wand and aimed it at bright blue couch that was shaped like a big 'S', and sported thousands of little red and yellow roses which, he noticed surprised, actually smelled. Of roses. Which was of course very handy in a household like hers. He muttered a brief, but very effective spell that would disinfect the furniture and clean it of any pests. He did the same with the carpet and the dolphin-shaped coffee-table, that hadn't even been visible before, thickly covered under the dishes and laundry.

Finally, ignoring the very essence of Malfoy style and attitude, he sat.

-------------

After endless minutes of mental agony, he flinched when all of a sudden, Rita appeared in the door, leaning seductively against the frame. She had changed her dress, and was now wearing a light, fashionable dress of fine silk. The colours changed magically from a brighter to a darker blue, then green, and back to blue. It looked like she was wearing pure water, a waterfall, more precisely, in fact, with some more imagination, you could almost sea the ocean flowing down her stunning, flawless body. Now and then, the occasional white wave was rising and fell back in the water with a silent splash.

Rita was well aware of her impression on Malfoy and granted him a knowing smile, throwing her hair over her shoulder. She was wearing it open. He couldn't believe the difference this little change of outfit caused. Long, reddish, full hair was flowing in never-ending waves down her chest and back, adding to the already appealing affect of the dress.

He swallowed and blinked, when he stood up.

"Well, Lucius," she said with a low, flirting voice, playing with her necklace of white and blue pearls.. "I thought I should make myself a little more comfortable."

He merely smiled at her when she approached him with slow, well-aimed steps, which not even the cushion on the floor could disturb.

She only stopped a few inches in front of him and looked up in his eyes. "You look stunning, Rita." he muttered.

"Thanks, Lucius." she whispered and moved her lips more closely to his. "I'm quite surprised, too – about you, I mean..." Her voice was hardly audible, but loud enough for the distance.

He felt her hands gently encircling his waist and leaned slightly forwards to kiss her. In the spur of a moment, she had pulled back her head and smiled at him innocently. "Sorry 'bout the mess, but I promise my sleeping chamber is perfectly tidy. Only in case I'll show you around of course."

He said nothing, but merely tried to read her expression correctly. He would have to adapt to the speed she preferred, but he couldn't deny that he was – beneath his well-set composure – thrilled by her stance and appearance, and by the way she was playing with him. His own play of course would involve some information gathering, while her only aim was obviously just to exploit his handsome, well-built body.

"One more drink, first, Lucius. – Before we chat I mean." She summoned a small tray with some bottles and two fine hand-made glasses and set it down on the coffee-table, before she sat on the couch.

He gave a soft chuckle and shrugged in mock indifference. "Sure."

Malfoy took a seat next to her and realised with amusement that she shortened the distance between them, offering him a glass.

He took it, while observing her crossing her beautiful legs, allowing the light dress slip over her knees.

"What must I do to make you show me around, Rita?" he asked her playfully.

Who knew, this might become an enjoyable evening after all.

------------------

Author's notes: First of all, hpmaniac3241, you are my first ever reviewer, and such a friendly and encouraging first review means a lot to me. THANKS:-)

This story will have approximately another 2 (maybe 3) chapters, and I was hoping to post the whole story before HP 6, but time flies, doesn't it?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story, and wish everyone much fun with Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince. Just one more day !


	3. Moonlight revelations

Chapter 3: Moonlight revelations

Rita gave a short laugh and offered him her hand, rising. "Well, I suppose the first thing I'll show you will be the marvellous view from the balcony. – C'mon on." she said softly, with a mild smile around her lips. If she expected a look of puzzlement or surprise in Malfoy's features, she was of course mistaken. Malfoy could perfectly well imagine that, if she wished them to have a really pleasant evening, she would have to do the considerable rest of the necessary cleaning by pure magic, which was bound to take a few minutes. And for those minutes, the balcony was definitely the best place to stay.

And sure enough, when she begged him to the small glass door, and outside onto the small balcony, he noticed her aim her wand at the still chaotic scene behind them, muttering a quite complicated series of spells, all starting with "Detergenza Uniomnia...", which, as he realised when he flung himself around in bewilderment, shot into the living room in a tremendous speed, some heading straight through the door, for the small room on the other side of the corridor, some bouncing off the living-room walls, spreading numerous white and lemon-coloured beams that did the tidying up and cleaning of a week or more in merely a quarter of an hour.

Which was quite a long time for a magic spell.

Squeezing himself next to Skeeter on a bright white, wooden bench which was – like the couch inside – covered with innumerable red and pink roses, Malfoy shot the occasional look back in the now brightly lit, flickering living-room, which was still being processed from a rubbish dumping place to a place worthy of human habitation.

However, his main interest was not the living-room at the moment. The bench was rather small, so Rita was sitting very close to him, which he didn't dislike at all. In fact, he was almost stunned by her gorgeous appearance and the disturbing way she was smiling at him. Almost. Not stunned enough to hesitate to retort to his usual ways in case his soft approach wouldn't work, but still, her beauty seemed to be even enlarged by the atmosphere here outside, in the moonlight, with the magnificent sight of London at night. Thousands of little street-lamps, houses and Muggle vehicles were competing with an even higher number of glittering stars. It was not quite full moon, but nearly, which granted the whole scene a discreet silvery touch, conjuring up a slightly unreal, elated appearance.

To the right of the almost full bright moon, Malfoy recognised Saturn, which was, for the untrained eye, concealed among the other shining little spots at the firmament, even slightly paler than most of its companions. For someone with a NEWT level in Astronomy, however, watching the night sky did prove fairly helpful from time to time, and the present constellation was not difficult to decipher. In fact, throwing the occasional, careful glance upwards, Malfoy felt very much confirmed that his plan for tonight would work.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when she followed his gaze and muttered: "Wonderful, isn't it? – I often sit here at night."

---------------

Malfoy laid his arm around her and was just about to bent down and caress her blushing cheek, when a tiny bright flickering light flashed across his vision from the side, making him blink. In confusion, he looked around, searching for the cause of the disturbance. But before he could see anything, Rita waved if off. "Never mind, Lucius, just ignore it. – It's the neighbour on the balcony over there, see? – Freaky guy..."

Malfoy's glance followed her outstretched hand, until it reached a dark figure on the opposite side of the street. It was obviously a man, who was looking through a huge telescope, which was, as Malfoy realised in amazement, not directed to the sky, but was pointing directly at himself and Rita. Immediately, he sat up straight and took a closer look. Still, the other man was watching. "Uh, never mind about him, Lucius," Rita repeated, slightly embarrassed, "He's really a nuisance, I admit. But just ignore him.

Malfoy gave her an inquiring look, glanced over to the observer, then back at Rita.

"You mean to say..." he began, "that you're under observation?"

Rita rolled her eyes and gave a short sigh. "Not...as such."

"Who is that man?" Malfoy wouldn't allow her to evade that question. He couldn't afford any more public attention after all. "From the Ministry or what? Rita?"

Rita seemed to fight an inner struggle, but finally decided to answer.

"He's not...he's nawdawisd." She muttered, looking in front of herself and rather embarrassed, while her voice was hardly audible.

"Come again?"

"He's not a wizard." Rita repeated pointedly, a little louder this time.

It took Malfoy an instant to process that unexpected information, and he still had no clue how to interpret her statement. He cleared his throat. "And why, pray tell, are you under observation by a ... Muggle. – Haven't got into trouble with Mudbl...Muggle authorities, have you?"

"NO!" Rita was mildly annoyed now, and her voice grew considerably more unnerved. "It's ... it's just him. He's been doing that since he had bought that telescope on a sale, and he's never ever used it to watch the stars."

Malfoy blinked a few times in confusion and gradually, realisation set in. Slowly, his mouth half open, he turned his head back to the opposite balcony.

His face was a blank mask when he was watching the other man who was bending over his enormous telescope, but his mind could not accept the mere possibility that a humble mudblood would dare...

"I can't do anything about it." Rita continued angrily, which he noticed only absent-mindedly. As a journalist, I have to be extremely cautious not to aggravate the Ministry by using magic against a muggle, and... well, I tried to complain to muggle police, but as long as I can't prove what he's using his telescope for, they can't act. – This is a muggle neighbourhood after all. - Just ignore that pervert."

But Malfoy didn't feel inclined to ignore that outrageous invasion of their privacy. He couldn't believe what that guy was doing. Even as he was watching over the street to the other man, his opposite did not retreat, but seemed to handle a little button on the side of his telescope, possibly adjusting the vision.

"You mean to say, he has done that before, Rita? That despicable mudblood dares to ... no witch or wizard would stoop that low! – Just wait..."

He drew his wand and aimed it at the other man, but was stopped by Rita. "No, Lucius, be careful, if someone sees...Just put it away. – This is such a beautiful night, so let's ignore that git. Look, Saturn looks so bright tonight, what an amazing constellation, though, isn't it? You only have that every 127 years."

"Yes, I know" Malfoy snarled, "why don't you tell _him _that?"

He stood and built himself up to his full size, planting his hands in his waist, staring at the other guy threateningly.

The man opposite waved and gave him the thumbs up, before he adjusted the telescope's vision again.

"What the h..." Malfoy muttered, dangerously slowly, his eyes narrowed to thin, foreboding slits. .

"Lucius, don't let him provoke you. – Please, come back here, ... oh my God, not now!"

Rita's last exclamation referred to the action of the man opposite.

Malfoy's mouth went open in shock and fury, when he became aware that the guy had left his place behind the telescope and stood up, and was now opening his long coat, under which he was completely, as Malfoy realised with contempt, undressed. The muggle was now holding his coat with both arms outstretched, displaying everything Malfoy did not want to see, and grinning over to them expectantly.

"I will curse that bastard into oblivion!" Malfoy hissed, drawing his wand, and this time, Rita couldn't stop him. "Don't worry, Rita," he comforted her, aiming his wand at the pervert muggle, "I've got influential friends at the Ministry. As long as I don't kill him, they won't mind."

Rita's glance wandered from Malfoy to the opposite balcony. Malfoy, however, was looking down on the street, where a dozen of black-clothed men stood lazily around their motorbikes, smoking, discussing with each other in grunting sounds and helping themselves several large crates of beer. After a second of deliberation, Malfoy aimed his wand at the telescope, behind which the pervert was hiding again, and muttered a Summoning Spell, causing the telescope rising into the air and over the fence of the balcony. The man shot up and was looking around in utter confusion, when he watched his precious device hovering over the street for a moment. Without thinking too much, he leaned over the fence and almost managed to grab it, shouting: "NOOO, MY TELESCOPE!" He couldn't be aware what a bad decision that had been, for all the men down on the street were now attentively looking upwards. With a mild grin, Malfoy lifted the spell and to his opposite's shock, the device fell down and landed with a loud CRASH! on one of the highly polished motor-bikes. As there was little space between the bikes, the first fell on the second, and eventually, the whole row of a dozen magnificent vehicles was lying on the floor in a shiny heap of gridlocked handlebars and loose metal parts.

"Oh-oh." Malfoy heard Rita behind him, but didn't turn around. The scene was too enjoyable to watch. While several of the bikers downstairs had apparently started to count the windows to find out on what floor the obvious offender was, the others showed him their fists and threatened him, bawling with loud, furious voices.

"Nooo," the guy shouted down to them, careful to wrap his coat around his body, "that wasn't me !"

Then, the whole gang was heading for the entrance of the house and soon disappeared from view. "Well," Malfoy said, giving the terrified man on the opposite balcony a friendly wave, "that'll teach him."

He turned back to Rita and sat down again, laying his arm around her. "Sorry, what did you say? – Yes Saturn looks brilliant tonight.!"

"Yeah, Lucius, " she answered, half smiling, "but I reckon we'd better go back in now. – C'mon."

-----------------

Inside, Rita glanced around the room with satisfaction. "That looks better, doesn't it?"

"Indeed," Malfoy muttered, truly astonished by the unbelievable change in the living-room's decor. It almost looked ... comfortable. Well, still rather tiny and poorly equipped, and surely not worth of being visited by a self-respecting member of the wizarding community under normal circumstances, but still, compared to the state 15 minutes before, it was a significant improvement.

"Indeed," he repeated, giving the balcony door a mild push to close it and planted his hands in his waist. "...it does look lovely, Rita. Very charming." He made a polite gesture to her to indicate she should go first and muttered into her waiting ear: "It says a lot about its owner."

She giggled childishly and led him over to her S-shaped sofa. An inviting silver tray had been placed on the little coffee-table and was laden with two crystal glasses and three rather small bottles of which one seemed to be wine.

"Thanks", she said modestly when they sat, "not to sound conceited, you know, but I hear that quite often by guys who visit my place."

Malfoy managed, without Rita noticing, to alter the traitorous grin that was threatening to flush through his face into a very convincing smile of mild interest, mingled with a subtly indignant raise of his eyebrows. "Guys? – You mean to say you made a habit out of luring strange men to your home? Rita, you amaze me, you really do."

He leaned back comfortably and laid his arm on the back of the sofa behind her. Well aware of that, Rita gave a short laugh and asked in fake innocence: "Lucius, what are you saying?". Still smiling, she pulled the tray towards them and grabbed one of the bottles. For a tiny second, her hand tightened around the bottle's neck and hesitated. She loved the feeling of being in control of a situation, but yet she couldn't deny the thought that, if she carried out her plan, she'd be in severe danger. If Malfoy found out about that one ingredient he would certainly be very displeased. And – that was the moment when it grew considerably harder to ignore her alarm-bells – if only half of the Potter boy's story was true, she would be dead.

"Anything wrong?" Malfoy's voice sounded slightly suspicious under the facade of polite concern.

Her decision was quickly taken. After all, there was a splendid story to be written after a possibly romantic night before. And, that was for sure, Malfoy's explanation back in the bar had sounded far more logical and credible than Potter's.

"Nothing!" she turned around, throwing him a beaming smile, making up an enormously quick reply. "I just had some doubts that ... we're doing the right thing...you know, it all went so ... – dunno..."

Malfoy leaned forwards and gently laid his arm over her shoulders. Truly appealed by her fairy-like appearance – although he was sure that dress was enchanted to create that effect – he moved his lips to her cheek and planted a soft kiss on her flawless skin. His mouth moved a few inches back to her ear and muttered: "Does that feel wrong to you...Rita?"

It didn't. On the contrary, Rita felt a wave of something beyond her vocabulary rush through her body when his mouth wandered towards hers, caressing every part of her face on the way. Even though she couldn't put it into words, she could tell that it had been a long time since she had felt like this. For a moment, she forgot about the potion she had been about to administer to him, and leaned into his kisses, relishing in her body's reaction to his signs of affection, still not returning them.

She closed her eyes and swallowed when he reached her lips, stroking them with a soft touch of his, but retreating when she didn't kiss him back. "Are you sure you want this?" he whispered into her ear again.

Mildly annoyed about this unwelcome interruption and his inability to interpret her reaction properly, she opened her eyes and gave him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, I'd tell you if I didn't. – Why don't you continue where you stopped just now? – I admit, you're quite skilled in that kind of thing, for a married man."

He snorted in spite of himself and didn't even stopped chuckling when she leaned back against the sofa, pulling him with her. "Yes, well, married doesn't mean dead, you know?"

She moaned happily when their lips finally met, and, as if to stop him from retreating, she laid her arms around his neck, where her fingers took hold of his blonde, soft hair. The first kisses were like a cautious introduction. Playfully, he explored her lower lip, while she leaned into his embrace, relishing in that joyful sensation. She gave another low sound of excitement, which he interpreted correctly this time. His mouth went a inch upwards to cherish hers completely. She could feel the tension rising when she began to respond, and after every cautious kiss, their lips drew apart, only to meet again, like someone in the desert would drink slowly and carefully.

Rita gave a soft smile, realising that he was obviously an expert in this. Her hand grabbed his hair when they were finally holding their kiss, unwilling to part.

When they did, it took her a moment to focus on her next steps.

------------------

"We...maybe we should have another drink before..." Rita began with a mild, slightly nervous smile. Inwardly, she had made a decision. She wanted this man. She wanted to explore his wonderful body, to feel his skin, his embrace. More kisses. With him, she would go further than she had gone for months with any man. She inclined her head and cupped his cheek with her hand, stroking it softly. Malfoy was looking up at her, blinking surprised, but not uncomfortable. He didn't speak, but threw her a look that expressed that he was not disinclined to share with her whatever that night had in store for them. His glance grew even softer when her hand went further down and was stroking over his shirt. He took hold of it and gave it a courteous kiss, watching her challengingly. She locked eyes with him and gave him a hardly perceivable nod, smiling mildly. Yes, it would happen. This would be their common adventure and they would both enjoy it. Tonight.

But first things first. So... "Red...red wine, Lucius? It's my favourite drink...– Or would you rather fancy another whiskey, or a soft drink?"

He sat up, much nearer to her than before. "Hmmm, red wine sounds good. – Shall I?"

She nodded gratefully when he reached for the bottle of wine and poured it in both their glasses.

"Thanks." She mouthed and cleared her throat before taking her glass and tipping it to his.

"To..." he started thoughtfully and slightly ironically a toast, leaving it to her to continue.

"Mmmh," Rita went, thinking about an appropriate subject to toast at.

"Come on," Malfoy encouraged her, "anything but the Quibbler!" He grinned when she started giggling, and continued, only half seriously, "the Quibbler...or the Potter brat,... anything but those!"

"Okay," Rita laughed and said in a rather official manner, holding her glass in front of her face: "The freedom of the press!"

Malfoy laughed and met her glass with his. "Yeah, that's always the first thing that is threatened, isn't it?. – The freedom of the press!"

She watched him drinking half the glass of the delicious wine, excited and curious about how her harmless little truth potion would work. Just in case, of course, she had poured a few drops of it in every one of the three bottles, glad that the potion itself didn't have an aftertaste like the antidote had, which she had taken before in the kitchen.

"Like the wine?" she inquired, trying to urge him on. "Don't be shy." She smiled, grabbed the bottle and re-filled his glass long before it had been quite empty. "I love it when men get a little bit tipsy."

"Well," he grinned and took another sip of the dark red liquid. "I'll do my best."

"Lucius," Rita set her glass down and closed the distance between them, leaning against his shoulder and crossing her legs so that her left ankle was touching his leg like unintentionally. The dress was enclosing her body so tightly, that while moving towards him, she couldn't but let the dress slip upwards a bit, again revealing her knees. He hadn't been aware of the long slit in the dress before.

"Lucius," she repeated, "I hate to be nosy, but maybe you wouldn't mind if I asked you a question? – Of course I do hope you don't consider me too intrusive."

He grinned at her playfully and stroked over her cheek to pull her face nearer to his own, so that he could kiss it. In a soft and gentle voice, he answered: "My, Rita, that's a bit of rich of you, don't you think? In fact, you're the most intrusive person I've ever met."

He blinked in confusion at his own words and forgot for a second to stroke her cheek. Shaking his head at his own lack of control, he made a mental note to be more careful with hard drinks the next time.

Rita's impression, however, had merely changed. She would ignore his unjustified criticism and launch her next attack.

She leaned up to him and kissed away the apology that was forming on his lips. Finally, she pulled back, purred with enjoyment and gave him another seductive smile. She had him where she had wanted him, it was only a question of time now. But first, she reckoned, a little distraction of her real intentions was in order.

Slowly, she removed the shawl from her shoulders that seemed so light that it almost glided through the air before it landed on the table, so transparent that is was hardly visible. "Better put that away, that uncomfortable thing, it's so thick I can hardly breath under it. – Oh dear, that alcohol always warms me up."

Malfoy swallowed at the sight of her daringly low-cut decolletage, which seemed to reveal more than it actually did. The enchanted dress allowed him the occasional glance beneath the tissue, and then covered it again, like real waves of cold, refreshing water that were rising and falling where a non-magical garment would have set a clear limit. Despite the thought that his own reaction could be at least partly due to the effects of alcohol on him, he couldn't deny that he was stunned, and indeed appealed by the breath-taking sight.

Rita licked her lips, fast enough to make her look bold and blatant, and slow enough to leave him time to imagine what her tongue would prefer to touch right now. She grabbed the glass with the potion again and held it to his mouth, moving her chest suffocatingly near his body. "A little more wine, love?" she whispered. He opened his lips and let the drink flavour his mouth, running down his throat, like a delicious starter for what was yet to come. He felt slightly dizzy, but didn't take too much notice.

"Right", Rita said, after setting the glass back on the bedside table, "do you like what you see?"

She would make his mind swirl a little bit before she would return to her actual field of interest. Smiling with preliminary satisfaction, she waited for his answer.

"Uh," be began, his glance wandering over the plains and hills of her body, "I reckon every woman looks stunning after all the drinks I had." He stopped, clearly startled by his own speech.. That was not what he had intended to say. In fact, someone could interpret it as an insult. Hurriedly, he made a new start to make up for the damage and continued: "Even you." No, that didn't help, he scolded himself. Somehow, the connection between his brain and tongue must have been disturbed. No wonder that everything seemed blurred.

Rita narrowed her eyes and sat back in astonishment. Why would he say such a thing? But then, she reckoned, probably the truth potion needed some more seconds to kick in. This might have been just a moment of confusion on his part, as his brain was processing the potion.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Err, Rita, I didn't mean exactly..." he began, but she laid her finger on his mouth to silence him.

She shook her head softly. "No, it's alright, don't worry. – Ooops, clumsy me!"

A few drops of the precious wine had slipped from her glass on the visible part of her cleavage, and she began slowly to wipe them away with her hand. Afterwards, well aware of the look on his face, she licked her fingers. "Mmm, really good wine, don't you think, Lucius?"

"Yes." He confirmed her in a low voice, slightly absent-mindedly. "An excellent choice."

"Thanks. – Err, Lucius, about that Quibbler story, you know what went through my mind while I was writing it?"

He shrugged. "Dunno, Rita, maybe something like 'I wish I had chosen a decent job' or 'I'm such a disgrace for my profession that only the Quibbler will take me on.'"

Malfoy sat up straight, massaging his forehead, hardly believing his own words. "I...I'm sorry Rita, I didn't mean to say that, I assure you. – Maybe it was the alcohol, I don't know. I didn't want to say that."

Rita inclined her head and narrowed her eyes. "Don't worry about it," she said, "wine and whiskey have never been good companions."

Inwardly, she didn't understand why the potion didn't work. Usually, it would set in immediately, after all, it wore off after only a few minutes. Every potion that would last longer, would have been much more likely to bring her into trouble, so she normally relied on that one.

However, she gave it another try. "Lucius, I was wondering what you think about You-Know-Who's return... I mean, do you reckon it's completely unlikely? – You know, it seems to me rather difficult for a school-kid to make this all up. But even if most of it were lies, do you have any clue why Potter would choose you and those others as the bad guys in his...tale?"

All of a sudden, the blurry look had vanished from his face and, for a second, he looked more threatening and dangerous then she had ever seen him. He leaned forwards and took a firm grip of her chin, not painful, but not as gentle as before. He pulled her head towards his mouth and whispered into her ear in a soft and silky voice that didn't seem to fit to his words: "Rita, my dear, never bite off more than you can chew. – I'm afraid I'd rather ... hurt you than to tell you that."

When he let her go, Rita gave a helpless shrug and looked sadly to the side.

What a depressing experience, she pitied herself inwardly, not only had she failed in making him reveal useful information, but had got threats and – even worse – the most ridiculous and blatant insults on top of it. Surely, he hadn't meant anything of what he had told her, the whole potion must have been a failure, no wonder, considering that it was rather weak anyway. It wasn't very difficult to disturb the results. Obviously, the alcohol had reversed its effects and had made him say the very opposite of what he had meant to. Rita gave a hardly perceivable nod. Yes, that was the only possible explanation. Mildly flattered, thinking of Malfoy's real view and admiration for her, she decided to give it a new try, without any herbal help. She was Rita Skeeter, for goodness sake, she would make him chat about everything she ruddy wanted to know.

--------------------

"Let's just forget it, Lucius, we don't need to talk about that." She assured him. She would try later again. "I mean, some of the boy's statements were so unlikely that I couldn't but leave them out."

"Oh, really," Malfoy said suddenly, "I didn't realise. – Did he tell you something of his godfather, by any chance? - I mean, surely, the poor boy's mind is still affected by that brain-wash to which Black had subjected the kids."

"Brainwash..." Rita gasped, "Yes, sure, I've heard, but ... Dumbledore said that was just a rumour..."

"And you believed that, just because Dumbledore said so?"

"Lucius, I..." she shook her head in confusion, "it's not that I haven't done any research for myself, you know, but it seemed to me rather unlikely ... there was no reason why Black should have done it, was there?"

Malfoy shrugged and gave a soft sigh. "Who can figure out the lines of thought of a criminal mind? – Certainly not me."

Rita narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and listened with more attention when he continued: "But for all I know, Black was the Da...You-Know-Who's second man, so... can't say it for sure of course...but maybe he had planned to abduct Potter to help resurrect the ...You-Know-Who. And who knows, perhaps that is still his plan."

Rita blinked and took a few moments to think this outrageous possibility through. She wasn't aware of Malfoy's cruel grin, didn't see his satisfied smirk on his very own sense of humour. Her experience had told her never to turn down an unlikely theory before doing her own research. If it proved true – brilliant, and if not, it would still make a splendid story.

"That would explain Potter's obvious confusion right now, maybe he's really convinced of those stories he keeps telling, but I don't consider it improbable that that's exactly what Black has planted in his mind..." Malfoy prompted.

"Yes," Rita began thoughtfully, observing her interlocutor slowly. "on the other hand...what Potter told me, was not too unlikely either..."

Her expression was blank when she locked eyes with him, for a moment all love and affection had been perfectly replaced by the professional attitude and inquisitiveness of a Daily Prophet reporter.

She was waiting for his answer patiently.

However, if Rita had expected to make him uneasy and unsettle him a bit by that sudden turn of the conversation, she had been wrong.

"No," he conceded, after only a second of cool silence, "not for Quibbler readers, anyway."

She didn't laugh.

"You want an answer." He said in mock disbelief. "You really want an answer to this, you do, don't you?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Surely the world would love to know what one of the main suspects – in Harry's view – has to say to this. – But wait, I'll just get my quill an..."

"Forget the quill. I'm telling you and no-one else." He was mildly amused by Rita's too obvious excitement. "I can't believe I have to defend myself against accusations such ridiculous as this, but alright. - The answer is no. Tell this to your readers, because I'll only say it once. I do not know where Potter was and the other kid was killed, but I had nothing to do with it, and neither had any of my friends. I beg you, Rita, on a graveyard? How fitting. I didn't trust my eyes when I read that... me, standing in a circle around the Potter boy and You-Know-Who watching them duel? God, Rita, I was in my study at that time, preparing the annual list of magical possessions for the Ministry of Magic. Believe me, if Potter had any idea of how tedious that work was, he would have used that instead as the main ingredient for his fantasies. – And besides, the last time I was "disguised" was at Nott's wedding, where they forced me into acting the best man. – Violet was never my colour."

He gave a pityful sigh, and looked at Rita with a mock suffering expression.

She couldn't but laugh. He was right. This sounded much more probable. Had she been mad to listen to Potter? After she herself had revealed his emotional disturbance in her former articles. If Malfoy had told her the truth, she had made a complete fool of herself with that Quibbler article. But still, she was too much a journalist and too much used to lies and deceit to trust him fully.

-----------------

"Well, you know, it's not that incredible," Rita said slowly, half grinning. "I remember one of my best birthday-parties...there were indeed around twenty cutely disguised people encircling me and one of those man-sized cauldrons. And...", she had difficulty to continue, putting all her effort in suppressing a giggle attack, "...and there, too, was a naked man who jumped out of it. – And then, he...he had to perform a piece out of a Muggle musical before he got his clothes back."

She let herself fall backwards against the back of the sofa and covered her eyes with her hand, giggling still more loudly. If she had opened her eyes, she would have realised that she was the only one laughing. Indeed, Malfoy looked more cold and dangerous than he had ever since he had met her tonight. For the fraction of a second, pure loathing and fury had replaced his former charming features, but he was used to regain his composure astonishingly quickly.

Almost unable to speak, and her eyes still closed, Rita hit him on the arm a few times in amusement, encouraging him to join in.

"You know," she said between chuckles, wiping a few tears of joy away, "Bobo had lost a bet. – Poor guy." A few last waves of her laugh attack convulsed through her body while she enjoyed sweet reminiscence.

She didn't see that Malfoy looked like he was about to give her a few well-aimed blows in the face.

Finally, Rita recovered and sat back up. She realised, slightly embarrassed, that her attempt to release the tension of the situation hadn't worked. "Well," she shrugged and cleared her throat, "I reckon you'd have to be there to get the joke."

------------------

"C'mon, Lucius," she began in a soothing tone, "You know I didn't..."

Her eyes grew wide when she heard a soft, screeching noise and she stopped mid-sentence. She made a movement to prop herself up, using his chest for support, and Malfoy grabbed her by the arms and pushed her down on the sofa, gesturing her to remain silent, while drawing hiswand. Instinctively, she was searching for her own wand, but soon remembered that she was wearing the sort of dress that allowed no further equipment, which she told him with an apologetic wave of her arms.

Malfoy merely shook his head, as if to inform her this was on no importance and again, gestured her to remain sitting.

A brief look at the balcony door assured him it was still closed. The sound had been more far and must have come from outside the living-room, so he headed with well-trained, cautious steps to the door that led outside.

For another instant, he was listening attentively, but no further sound was to be heard. With a short flick of his wand, the door opened slowly and he glided outside, pressing himself against the wall. The corridor was empty. The light from the living-room was bright enough to shine outside, so that even the corridor seemed to be dimly lit. Without any option to hide for an intruder.

Malfoy blinked in mild confusion and looked left and right. His steps were hardly audible when he moved towards the door opposite, which seemed to lead to the bathroom. His face was a blank mask when he took a few determined steps towards the door, grabbed the handle firmly and pulled it open with one forceful movement, as the same time aiming his wand in the room, focussing on a silent Stunning Spell. The beam shot into the small room, but found no target. Again, Malfoy found the room empty.

As was the broom-cupboard which he searched next. A few further steps took him in front of another door, which was bound to lead to the sleeping-room.

Malfoy took a deep breath. He knew that, if there was indeed an intruder, they had to be here. His hand closed around the handle and enclosed it in a painfully strong grip. He had no clue what he would face behind that door, or how many people would be hiding in there. If there was somebody, but he could not rely on that option, just because it was more probable. He had been to long in the Dark Lord's service to dare ignore even the slightest aberration. The slightest sound could be a hint to the presence of enemies who would try to kill him, and he not run any risks.

Focused on the spells and curses he would use against the intruder, or them, he held his wand at the ready, but froze in shock when he heard a voice in his back:

"No point, Lucius."

Malfoy was just going to swirl around and defend himself when he realised to whom that voice belonged. He rolled his eyes and turned around to his host.

"Rita." He mouthed angrily and tried to gesture her to retreat to the living-room. "And be quiet, for God's sake!"

"No, honestly, Lucius," she repeated, unabashed and in a completely normal voice, "nobody could get in there, I sealed it with a spell. – Calm down, hon, there's no-one there. Was probably just the old wooden furniture that was making that sound."

He wasn't satisfied yet. "And why, Rita, would you seal your sleeping-room, if I may ask?"

"Because," she said importantly, "there have been break-ins in the neighbourhood, and I have all my import..."

"Your important what?"

"Nothing, Lucius, never mind. – Come back with me."

Back in the living-room, he relaxed. Of course, it could have been the furniture, and – as he had searched everything thoroughly, there was indeed no chance there was an intruder in here.

Indeed, Malfoy reckoned that ever since that freaking article he had grown considerably more nervous.

With a soft sigh, he sat back on the sofa next to the person who had written it.

---------------------

They made themselves comfortable again.

"Just imagine, Lucius," Rita said with a cheeky smile, "what Potter would have made of that little incident...and what horrible monsters he would have invented to add to the suspense."

"That Potter brat..." Malfoy muttered, sighing, and leaned back against the sofa. "you cannot possibly imagine how much nerves that stupid schoolkid has cost me already..."

Rita lied herself in his inviting arm and looked at him in an understanding, slightly inquisitive manner. "Really, Lucius?" she asked "I'm dying to hear. What else has that boy done to you? Tell your Rita everything."

Malfoy gave a soft chuckle and stroked her over the cheek, which she obviously found very pleasant. "Dying to hear..." he repeated her words, and it sounded strangely sickening out of his mouth, "You should make sure that none of your spells backfires one of these days, Rita."

For a single moment, Rita raised her head a little and threw him a bewildered look, which grew even more puzzled when she saw no sign of humour on his face. But she was too curious to let anything slip what he would tell, so she mentally waved off that little voice in her mind, that was screaming to her one warning after the other. Surely, he had just exaggerated or used an idiom that wasn't known to her. So she leaned into his embrace again and let him continue.

"But I can assure you, I'd be more than pleased not to meet that scumbag ever again. – Except for hearing his apologies of course, for this libel campaign y...- uh – he and his friends started."

Sporting her usual fake mask of guilty embarrassment in situation when she was reminded of her articles' affects on someone's life, she inclined her head and asked in a soft voice: "Yes, err, I understand that this whole affair must have been most unpleasant for you. Those kids really have no idea of the consequences of their false statements. No awareness of wrongdoing whatsoever. – And that editor just printed it without a final glance through it. This is most unfortunate."

Despite all regret, she managed to make it sound like she was talking about something other people had caused, and she had nothing to do with it. She even managed to look like she honestly believed that. However, if Malfoy was annoyed by that fact, he didn't show it.

Instead, he elaborated: "Yes, well, I had a lot to explain to my friends at the Ministry, and, which is even worse, Narcissa and Draco of course, had been involved and were the subject of public attention. 'Unpleasant' only describes it inadequately, I'm afraid. And the fact that it had only been the Quibbler, well, that was not necessarily an advantage, you know? Made me even more the victim of ridicule. And my family, obviously. – I mean, after all, you managed to put it on the front page, to be continued on 5 pages in the magazine. Alongside other, well-meant ... tales."

"Yes..." Rita went, thoughtfully, "it was between the stories of that dragon herd hidden in Rosmerta's cellar and that one about Jake, the Dementor, who wanted to get paid and founded a trade union."

"Exactly." Malfoy said dryly. "That didn't help."

"But I should have known there's something fishy going on, " Rita continued, "Potter and his friends, especially that little girl with the curly hair..."

"Oh, Granger, you mean? – That M...Muggle-born?"

"Yes," Rita nodded eagerly. " Exactly that one. Very nosy, self-righteous, conceited little schoolgirl, looks like a potato bag on two legs, really, no wonder she tries to compensate for it."

"I've seen her once." Malfoy pointed out. "Indeed an obnoxious know-it-all. And her appearance - you couldn't put it in gentle words – was indeed extremely abhorrent. Moreover, she talked back to me with her cheeky tongue. Doesn't know her place, and no manners whatsoever."

"Yes, she does give that impression, Lucius. – I've really tried to get along with her, but Granger's head is just so swollen that she's unable of leading a civil conversation. – Anyway, alongside with the Potter-boy, she begged me on bended knee to write that article, and I was almost afraid that if I hadn't done it, Potter would have ... I don't know, he was so depressed, maybe he would have hurt himself. Now I may not like him very much, but I didn't want anything to happen to him, you know?"

"Nooo," Malfoy stated dryly, "we wouldn't want that."

"And so I kind of showed them mercy and did them the favour they were so heartbreakingly begging for. – Ignoring my own interests an the negative effects it might have on my career in a nearly – if it's not too immodest to put it that way- self-denying manner. I was only thinking of the children's sake."

" I see. – So, actually, you were a victim of their mischief, just like me?"

"Oh yes." She said regretfully.

------------------

Suddenly, Rita stretched and leaned against his shoulder again. "Actually, Lucius, when I have lured you to my place, what I had in mind was not exactly an endless discussion. – It was rather your body than your mind that attracted me. Your brain is not that special, you know?" She added cheekily, and faked an attempt to flee from the sofa, in case of retaliation.

She heard his soft chuckle before she felt his arms around her waist which pulled her back next to him.

Giggling, she let herself fall against him and faked a struggle against his grip.

"Come again?" he snarled indignantly.

"Sorry, didn't mean that – I've drunk too much as well, I think."

"It seems so, woman."

"Let go!"

Laughing shrilly, she staged an impressive fight against his grip, which he finally loosened, only to have her administer him a soft blow against his chest and give him a peck on the cheek to settle the fight.

Rita was half sitting on his lap, while his hand stroked softly the tissue of the back of the dress.

He grabbed for his glass again, but she laid his hand on his and pulled the glass away. "Don't think so, Lucius." she informed him and stood, walking over to the cabinet, this time retrieving a large bottle with a transparent liquid.

"You can get some water instead. – I'm not going to listen to any insult again."

He laughed and stood up, too, walking over to the cabinet and embracing her from behind. "You're right, that was very rude of me.- Sorry."

She didn't answer, but poured some of the water in two glasses, his arms still gently closed around her waist. "And I didn't mean to threaten you either," he continued, now that the potion had truly worn off, "it's just that...that stupid kid annoys me to no end."

Rita patted his hand to indicate he should release her, and turned around, giving him his glass. "He annoys you that much that you say such things to me?"

He shrugged and took the glass.

"Honestly, you wouldn't believe how incredibly dumb and interfering that stinking Potter brat is, did you know that, by his intervention, my house-elf lost his home in my family and had to leave to meet his own doom out there? Out of sheer lust to annoy people, Potter gave him a sock without my or the elf's knowledge – it was hidden in a book, you know – and the poor creature couldn't but take it, as Potter threw it at the elf's head."

Rita gasped. "He did not!"

"Oh yes," Malfoy continued, "and laughed in my face afterwards."

Rita shook her head, clearly appalled. "Didn't seem the type, the Potter boy...but then, he treated me too very disparagingly, although I only meant well. He can be such a stupid, thick-headed kid, right?"

Malfoy nodded. "I'm not sure if that's his fault, though. Maybe he's only mentally challenged. – And maybe not and he's just an interfering little scumbag who needs to learn some manners."

"Yeah," Rita sighed, "I suppose life will teach him that some day."

The slightest touch of a grin flushed through Malfoy's face. "Well, sooner or later he'll have to face what the future beholds for him, and then he'll learn his lesson."

The both grinned and held up their glasses again for another toast. "To the Potter brat." Malfoy prompted. Rita chuckled and nodded graciously. "Yes, to the stupid, stinking Potter brat. Hehe."

Malfoy joined in chuckling and gave Rita a friendly, fake blow with his fist, which slowed down an inch in front of her chin, merely touching it gently. "My compliments, woman. You've got style!"

----------------

Only now he realised the soft music. Obviously, Rita had switched on some tune that didn't seem unfamiliar to him, not quite his taste, but not too bad either.

"I see we share the same taste for music, too, Rita. – I didn't know the Weird Sisters were playing that sort of music, too, though."

Indeed, the music, which came from an enchanted disc circling through the room, wasn't typical for that band, however it very much added to the atmosphere right now. A single female voice sang in a jazz-like tune, accompanied by a piano and violins.

"Oh, yes," Rita explained. "It's called _Under the Moonlight_, they composed a few of those songs for the "Magical Dance Competition" last year."

"Very interesting." Malfoy said, "What do you think, Rita," he suddenly gave a slight bow in front of her. "May I ask you for a dance?"

"Oh, of course." Rita beamed at him and took his hand. In a rather close dancing position, they started to move to the tunes of the music, and Rita noticed with pleasure his hand softly touching her back, but still holding her close to him, quite apart from the fact that he was an excellent dancer. Rita sighed comfortably. They way he was holding and leading her, and his whole composure, paired with his consideration for her...he was the perfect gentleman. Relishing in his warm touch, she moved to the music and listened to the lyrics. She loved that song.

"_I remember the night, when we were dancing the very first time,_

_under the moonlight, under the stars,_

_I remember your eyes, flirting so brightly with mine, _

_above us the perseids, Saturn and Mars,_

_----_

_Your embrace was so sweet, so very inviting to me,_

_much more than the moonlight, much more than the stars,_

_I sank in your arms, like those sunken ships in the sea, _

_hopelessly lost but yet free, we saw the waves pass. _

_----_

_And you whispered those words, those enchanting words in my ears,_

_under the ocean, under the sea, _

_I absorbed every letter, every kiss there relinquished my fears,_

'_cause I was your guardian down there, and you guarded me._

----

Rita gave a soft moan and threw Lucius her brightest smile, when he released her out of his grip to perform a perfectly accomplished change of steps and let her make a pirouette under his arm, before she glided back to her former position, thoroughly enjoying herself.

_----_

_Nothing and no-one - would've been able to move us apart, _

_under the ocean, under the sea, _

_We were happy together, one soul and one mind and one heart, _

_No-one could hurt us, we were just free._

_----_

_But it was only one night, one glamorous night that we shared,_

_under the moonlight, under the stars,_

_Only a little affair - insignificant, nobody cared,_

_and then we parted, like by invisible bars._

_----_

_Yet it won't leave my mind, that night was the best that I had,_

_together with you, so thrilling and new,_

_So special, true and unique, that it left me both grateful and sad,_

_under the moonlight, together with you. -_

_Under the moonlight, together with you." _

-----------------------

"Awww," Rita went as the last tones of the song were fading, and, with a soft sigh, laid her head on Lucius's shoulder. "Isn't that beeeeautiful? – Hm-m-hm-m-mhmm, so romantic, isn't it... Lucius?"

Without her noticing, Malfoy raised his eyebrows, considering for a moment what to say. "Ahh, yes, indeed, Rita. – Very... unique."

"Na-na-na-nanahaa-aa." She continued humming the tune of the song that had long before finished. For a moment, they remained in their dancing position, although not moving anymore. Finally, Rita looked up at him, smiling seductively. "You know Lucius, that music – always brings me in the right mood. – Surely I'm not the only one."

Being the gentleman that he was, he knew it would have been very impolite to deny that, so he shrugged and assured her, not quite convinced himself: "Oh yes very much so, Rita. – I feel ...", he cocked his eyebrow, searching for the right words, "Yes, I feel...very much ... in the mood,... too."

In fact, he didn't. First, that kind of music was not exactly what he had in mind when he thought of erotic adventures, respectively his marital duties, and secondly, and much more importantly, (even though Rita was undeniably pretty – not a spring chicken anymore of course – but still, not thoroughly unattractive, and it would certainly not be an unpleasant experience), he needed something else to turn himself on. Something that Rita could not give him.

---------------------------------------------------------

Author's notes:

First, thanks for your review, Puddlemere, and for encouraging me!  I really appreciate that!

Thanks again HP maniac, too!

And, dear readers, I hope you enjoyed that chapter, and I think I can promise that it won't take me too long to post the next. I'll be happy about every review, and even if you didn't like my story or some aspects of it, please feel free to criticise and tell me what I could improve, I won't be offended.


	4. Inadmissible insight

Inadmissible insight

"However, ..." Malfoy continued hesitatingly, "...about that...we do not need to hurry, I find the atmosphere in here rather ...mmmm...pleasant.." He cupped the back of Rita's head with his hand and pulled it gently towards his chest. "Who would have thought that dancing with you of all people would turn out so exciting." A mild dose of his playful, slightly cheeky charm could not harm, he reckoned, as a small grin was flushing over his face.

He felt confirmed when he heard her chuckle as well, which soon changed when she informed him of her expectations for the rest of the night.

"You're so charming, Lucius... don't need to hurry, so considerate of you..." Slowly, her hand rose to his chest and buttoned up the upper buttons of his shirt, this time much more determined then before. Soft kisses caressed the mildly tanned skin, before she drew her head away and looked up at him. "...and there's no need to slow it down either, I'd say. Is there? – Lucius?"

She studied his face slightly uncertain, then inquired with mock indignation. "Actually, that's your time to say 'No of course there isn't, my darling'. "

Malfoy snorted in amusement. "NO, of course there isn't, my darling.", he repeated obediently, and cocked an eyebrow. "And I'd love to discover the treasures beneath the surface of that ocean."

Rita grinned and threw a short, modest glance down her dress.

"I just wonder if I may use your bathroom for a minute?" he asked her. "I need to refresh myself before I can attend to you."

"But sure, Lucius." Rita said generously. "It's just over the corridor, help yourself. – I'll be waiting in the sleeping-chamber, alright? You know, the next door...it won't be closed for you this time."

"O-kay." He said, and gave her a soft slap on her lower back. "You'd better hurry that you move your extremely provocative body there. – I'll be with you in a second."

-----------------------

Grinning cheekily on her shrill laugh of surprise, he turned and headed for the door.

He stepped outside the room on the narrow corridor, made sure that he closed the door behind him, leaned against it with crossed arms and gave a low sigh.

Of course, he should have expected that. That was what all women wanted when they saw him. She was only human. But still, he wasn't used to play around for so long when he was supposed to gather necessary information for the Dark Lord. Normally, when he was questioning an unwilling informant, he didn't show them neither patience, nor mercy, nor his underwear. Actually, he did feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact that he had been instructed to do something that was difficult enough to accomplish without any pressure. Shaking his head, he grabbed in his waistcoat pocket and retrieved his golden watch. Over an hour had passed since he had arrived at Rita's flat. And so far, she had told him absolutely nothing, had even dared question him in return.

On the other hand, he was well aware of the calibre of the person with whom he was dealing here. One wrong word of his could unleash an unstoppable press campaign that would be disastrous to his reputation (and probably to his health, regarding the Dark Lord's reaction), like a wrong step high up an alpine mountain could start an avalanche that would destroy everything in its way and cover the next few villages.

But of course, he was used to choose his words well, so her attempts to make him reveal his own secrets were really a minor problem here. And he was convinced that, if he would take it slowly, he would get to know the names of Hathorne's companions back in the pub – as Jimmy had been the only one he knew – and what they had been talking about, in no time. One thing, however, had extremely increased his respect for Skeeter... He had no clue how on earth she had been able to arrange an interview with members of the Department of Mysteries without having been slaughtered before. Maybe he should tread a little more cautiously around her. And, although under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be unfaithful to Narcissa, at least not with a _Daily Prophet _reporter, that woman had style, and was indeed...yes, surely you could call her that...a treat.

------------------------

But he couldn't stand here forever. Malfoy pulled himself out of his thoughts and hurried for the bathroom.

He registered with relief that even that room was neat and tidy. No-one besides Rita would call it tasteful or inviting, and it was smaller than the tiniest of his own broom cupboards, but at least it was clean. Malfoy nodded and took a step in front the sink, which seemed to be false marble and, like the matching towels, in a bright rosé colour. In fact, which he noticed mildly bewildered, everything in here was pink, with that little rose pattern. The sink and the frame of the mirror above, the cupboard, the shelves of wicker work, the lamp, the cork floor and the ceiling, the toilet and the shower and the shiny walls. Everything. He shook his head in slight disapproval.

Shrugging, he looked up into the mirror to do the necessary preparation that would enable himself to satisfy the woman.

Even during the rare occasions when he and Narcissa had decided to have sexual intercourse, Malfoy had had always known how to get into the right mood before. And although Narcissa was considered a beauty by most people, and even he found her acceptably attractive, there was only one person who would manage to arouse his passion and, indeed, to turn him on.

He himself. Obviously. It went without saying for Malfoy that almost every witch in Britain would melt and fall into his arms the very minute he laid his eyes on her. He had even earned admiring and, understandably jealous looks of men. People seemed to be helplessly attracted to him, which was not only due to his lean and muscular body and his most appealing features, as well as to his charm and eloquence, his sophisticated well-bred behaviour, but also to his capturing character.

If everyone else was charmed by him, why should he be an exception?

Actually, the only thing he regretted was that he wasn't able to touch and caress his own body, and to feel his own body caress his, the only one that was really worth it. Narcissa was an adequate substitute, but sometimes he had considered to ask someone to take Polyjuice Potion to make his fantasies real. After all, necessity was the mother of invention. But then, seriously and carefully considering whom he should confide his secret dream, he had reached very quickly the conclusion that none of his friends would understand. Let alone do it. And besides, he would still know that it wasn't himself, so why going through the trouble?

It had to suffice to spoil himself by watching his own reflection in the mirror.

"Ah," he muttered softly, careful not to let Rita hear, "I like what I see. – Beautiful perfection. And yet, a certain touch of accessibility," he whispered to himself with appreciation. He leaned a bit closer to the mirror as he always did after the first compliments, and when his lips were merely an inch away from that of his irresistable reflection in the mirror, he continued, hardly audible: "You are the most fascinating and handsome human being I've ever come across. This will never change. – Only you and me." Closing his eyes in silent enjoyment and thrill, he closed the already short distance and planted a gentle, yet passionate kiss on the mirror. Pulling back and licking his lips, he felt that now he could even take it into consideration to get intimate with the Skeeter woman lurking for him outside.

He threw his longish, open blond hair back over his shoulder and treated himself with a last glance at his only true love, before he opened the door, determination written in his face.

He was ready.

---------------------------

When he entered the sleeping-chamber, Rita was waiting for him, half lying, half sitting on the bed, leaning against a large white cushion with a rose pattern. Her arms were crossed, and her right hand was patting impatiently on her left upper arm. She hadn't realised he had stepped into the room and was obviously wondering what was taking him so long. Malfoy gave the door a soft push and it fell shut behind him with a low noise.

Immediately, Rita's expression changed. She didn't speak, but beamed at him seductively. Her arms wandered behind her head and revealed much more of her than he had been allowed to see so far. Rita had changed clothes. Her enchanted ocean-like dress hung sloppily over a chair, and the occasional drop of water was oozing from it, forming a shallow puddle in the pink bowl below.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked back to Rita, realising that it hadn't been only the dress that had attracted him before. Rita was now wearing a satin, dark violet piece of nothing, which didn't hide too much, although it reached from her cleavage to her knees.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "My compliments." He muttered. "You definitely have a sense for the right colours." Of course, he had mainly meant her, but Malfoy noticed with a very brief glance around that in the case of her sleeping-room, this also applied to the fittings. Indeed, the furnishing was lovely. It was quite a big room, regarding the rest of her humble flat, and every single piece of equipment seemed to match perfectly with the others. An obviously expensive Persian carpet covered the whole floor, sporting an interesting pattern of woven lines and little stars. The general colour of the furniture was white, with mother-of-pearl effect, that appealed to the eye with its subtle change of colour in the light.

The most room in the chamber was taken by the large four-poster with a azure canopy above. The bed itself, as he realised with mild amusement, was magically hovering a few inches over the floor, giving the whole scene a slightly unreal appearance. And of course, there was Rita, enthroned in the middle of it, well aware of his silent appraisal.

"Thanks," she said, grinning, "but I admit I'm a little bit disappointed."

He raised his head inquiringly.

All of a sudden, Rita had grabbed beside her, and, to his true bewilderment, was now holding her wand in her hand, aiming it directly at his chest.

Instinctively, Malfoy made to retrieve his own, but stopped in his tracks. First, in the unlikely case that she was trying to attack him, it was an inadequate strategy, and, in the much more likely case that she was playing with him, he couldn't deny he was curious of what she had in mind.

With a cautious smile, he raised his arms in mock defeat. "And why would that be?" he asked.

Rita shook her head disapprovingly and gestured him to step nearer to the bed. He complied, inwardly more than a little thrilled on that development.

"Because, Lucius, you haven't changed. – You're still wearing the same clothes you did a quarter of an hour ago. – I can't have that."

With a mild flick of her wand, she muttered a Summoning Spell, and before he could even react, the bright beam hit him and Malfoy felt his silk 40-galleon shirt ripped off his body, flying towards Rita, who sent it lazily aside, on the floor.

He blinked and inclined his head in playful defiance, his hands now planted in his hips.

"I should've known...", he muttered, "never go home with strange women." He shrugged and gave a fake sigh, while Rita grinned with excitement at him for playing along, then took off his shoes with only his feet and began to undo his belt. "I hope you'll let me do that on my own, at least."

"Good you're so reasonable." She said in a superior manner, continuing her play. "So I won't need that anymore." Chuckling, she opened the night stand's drawer and put her wand inside. "Hmmm, that's more like it!"

Malfoy grinned at the compliment, which he could, naturally, more than understand. He enjoyed Rita's unabashed, close glance over his mildly tanned, muscular body, which was now only covered with a pair of silk black pants. He met her glance when her eyes had travelled up to his eyes, and raised his eyebrows as if wondering about her thoughts.

"Not too bad...", she commented and patted the white linen next to her. "What are you waiting for?"

His grin hadn't vanished when he strolled towards the bed and joined her. "I couldn't have waited much longer, Rita, you look absolutely stunning."

She didn't comment on his compliments with words, but let her hand explore his handsome upper body and she gave a soft moan when she felt his hands clasping her waist, closing the distance between them.

--------------------------

"Lucius, before we start...", Rita said suddenly, slightly uncomfortable, "uh, you know, I don't think we should risk any...unwanted results of our affair."

Malfoy looked up at her and nodded appreciatively.

"Yes...quite frankly, given the fact that I'm happily married, that's definitely in my interest, too. – I just wait here until you took the potion. – Sorry, I thought you already had."

"You misunderstand, Lucius," she said slowly, inclining her head. "I was actually suggesting that you should perform the spell."

He raised his head and cleared his throat, slightly uneasy. "Rita, dear, don't get me wrong, but I was under the assumption that that specific part is in the responsibility of the woman."

"You were?"

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes and gave a soft, mirthless snort. "Err, I do not take the Contracepta Potion. Surely you won't expect a woman to take that potion every week – including the occasional side effect – when it's so much easier for the man to cast the spell."

"No, Rita, I don't like that...it's not the same, you know. It doesn't feel like...without it, see? Look, I'll just interrupt before, nothing will happen, I assure you..."

"No, Lucius," she shook her head and shrugged. "No safety precautions, no Rita."

Malfoy stared at her in disbelief. He desired her, certainly, but he was positive that, under different circumstances this would have been the perfect time to leave. But...

_Any problems with carrying out my instructions, Lucius? Again?_

"Alright," he snarled, "just...would you just turn around for a moment?"

---------------------------

Rita shook her head, grinning and looked the other way, busying herself with flattening the little table cloth on her bed-side table.

Cursing inwardly, Malfoy grabbed his wand on the floor on his side of the bed, and, after a brief glance at Rita's back, he pointed it between his legs. He cast the spell in complete silence, then put his wand quickly at the night-stand and cleared his throat. "Right." He muttered to indicate to Rita she could turn back to him.

"See," she commented on his reluctance, "it wasn't that difficult."

"Well, speak for yourself, Rita," he said cheekily, "you'd better make sure it was worth the trouble."

She gave him a soft punch against his chest. "Oh I will, Lucius, you'll soon see."

Rita climbed on his body and sat on his legs. Again, she sighed comfortably when he started to stroke her thighs and went slowly upwards, over her hips and waist, pushing her nightie up on the way.

-------------------------------

But all of a sudden... "What's that noise?" Malfoy muttered distractedly. Rita's head shot up, and contrary to Malfoy, the sound was quite familiar to her. "Oh don't mind that, Lucius. It's just the – err – cat."

"I didn't know you have a cat. And it didn't sound like one." Malfoy sat up, still full of suspicion of being overheard or supervised, he glanced around the room, listening hard.

The same soft scratching sound was to be heard, and when Malfoy tried to track down the source by listening, he found it came from the bed-side table.

"Just a second, Rita..." he muttered and laid a finger on her mouth to silence her.

"No, Lucius, that's really nothing. Really..."

But she knew she couldn't stop him. Soon, he had opened the drawer and discovered the culprit. His eyes narrowed when he observed Rita's notorious quill in the dim-lit interior of the drawer, bent over a small piece of parchment and scribbling eagerly.

Malfoy threw Rita a brief, suspicious look and grabbed the parchment, ignoring the quill, which, after some screeches of protest, just continued its work on the wooden drawer surface.

"Lucius, honestly, I forgot it was there, now give it here, that's honestly not very helpful." She tried to pull the parchment out of his hands, but failed. Malfoy sat down next to her again, careful to hold the parchment far enough from her to reach, and began to read.

Malfoy admired her lean, beautiful, stainless figure. "Oh my God, Rita!" he muttered in awe, "I cannot possibly express in words what it means to me to have the honour of being your humble lover."

_Graciously, the gorgeous woman in dark violet satin threw back her long and wavy dark red hair and gave him a slightly bored smile, being, of course, used to that kind of compliments. _

"_Oh God, my darling", he kissed her hand, with immense delight that a mere servant like him was being allowed to touch her divine body. "I would give all my money and property for one single moment in your precious company. I am nothing compared to you." _

_-----------------------_

Malfoy blinked, utter disbelief and bewilderment written in his features. Finally, he cleared his throat and looked back to her with raised eye-brows, the slightest touch of irony flushing threw his face.

Rita was beaming at him, far from searching for excuses, she waved off the quill's little romance novel, shrugged and explained, like it was the most natural thing on the planet: "Oops, I've forgotten I had left it there. Well, if I remain quiet for such a long time when I'm together with another person, it thinks it's supposed to assist my imagination."

Malfoy raised his head and cocked an eyebrow. "Is .. uh, is this your opinion of me?"

"Oh, no, no, no, Lucius," she explained to him like a nursery-teacher to a three-year-old, "that is what my quill believes it needs to write to satisfy me, which is not always necessarily reflecting my opinion, but is usually exactly what I would have wanted it to write if I had instructed it before. Not all the time, obviously."

Not having understood one word, he shook his head and gave her a puzzled and scrutinising look. "You know, Rita, you might have a serious problem there, I hope you're aware of that."

"Just put it back in the drawer." Rita whispered, off-handedly, ignoring his assessment.

"Alright," Malfoy did as he had been told, then pulled his willing companion back onto him again, allowing a giggling Rita to lean into his embrace and give him a soothing peck on the cheek. "But don't you think you'll get one galleon of me." He muttered, grinning, and flinched in pain when she bit him into his ear for his remark.

-------------------------------

The people who were hiding in the cupboard shifted uncomfortably. "Strange behaviour." Hathorne whispered.

"What is she playing at?" his female colleague wondered in a seething voice.

"We must keep investigating." the third Invisible pointed out.

"But really strange behaviour." agent Hathorne repeated.

"Hm-hm." now the fourth agent got himself heard, of course only to his colleagues in the small uncomfortable sideboard, which they had considered much safer to hide in than the large wardrobe.

"If you call that 'strange', you should have seen Lucius in the bathroom earlier. – No-one would believe that, if it weren't for my camera. Maybe you should take him along to your self-help-group one of these days, Jimmy?" he prompted.

"That's not your business, agent 05! How dare you! You know perfectly well that this is only the usual precautionary measure for someone who...who had taken his job a little more seriously than the others. – What? Are you laughing at me!"

"Jimmy, be quiet now!" hissed the woman.

And the group fell silent again.

--------------------------------------


End file.
